Making a Choice
by myeerah
Summary: Sequel to A Surprise Guest: it's the next day, and once again, Squall's got somebody in his bed. Who is it this time? Rated for language, sexual situations, and shounen-ai with mild yaoi. [COMPLETE]
1. Waking Up

Disclaimer for entire story, not to be repeated:  I don't own any of it.  None of the characters, none of the settings—that honor goes entirely to Square.

Note: for those who do not understand what yaoi means, this story contains sexual activity between males. This is in no way, shape, or form a Squinoa.  You have been duly warned, proceed at your own risk.

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_Morning_

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Motes of dust danced gleefully in a sunbeam.  Random gusts of air made them spin and skirl in and out of the shaft of light.  Squall opened gunmetal grey eyes that sparkled as brightly as the waltzing dust.

He looked down, indulgent smile caressing his lips, at the head nestled on the swell of his chest.  Tenderly lifting up his free hand, Squall traced gentle fingertips wonderingly over the curve of an eyebrow and then fondled a lock of fair hair, reveling in its silken delicacy.

"'Morning."  A voice thick with sleep rose from the head resting on Squall's chest.  "Sleep well?"  The warm air tickled over a bare nipple, making Squall shiver delightfully.  An absent kiss by those lips followed by a thoughtlessly affectionate squeeze from the arm draped across Squall's waist made him sigh in pleasure.

"Never better," he replied softly, his fingers whispering over cheek, neck, shoulder, and back, marveling in his ability to touch so freely.

Languorous eyes lifted to meet his.  "You seem happy," his bedmate commented.

"…I am."

Something in the way Squall spoke made his lover sit up and look him over carefully.  "You look… different."

"I _feel_ different.  I'm actually happy.  I don't remember ever having been _happy_ before."

Squall's normally pale skin was luminous in the morning sun, but the biggest part of his glow seemed to be generated internally.

"You may be right.  You're too serious, after all."

Squall let out a mock growl as he pulled the firm body into his arms.  He nuzzled playfully into hair the color of sunshine and nibbled on an earlobe.  "Thanks for staying with me," he breathed, before tracing the ear with the tip of his tongue.

"Trust me," was the husky reply, "it was my pleasure."

Then there were no words.  They didn't need them.

_***_

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed_ A Surprise Guest_, and especially to AWf4tf for saying that it wasn't right for Squall to choose someone just because they showed up. That got me to thinking about just whom Squall would pick.  Now we can find out._


	2. Changes

_The previous day_

Squall emerged from his bathroom to find everyone camped out in his bedroom.

"Awww," Selphie pouted, "he put his clothes on."

Squall glared at her. She just giggled.

"It's a shame to cover up such a fine body," Irvine added. "Don't you agree, Quisty?"

"Oh, yes." Quistis smirked. "I think we should hide his jacket for a few weeks."

Setting his jaw, Squall looked to Zell for support.

"Nuh-uh," Zell said, catching the unspoken question. "If I can let my hair down, you can take off a heavy jacket in this heat."

"Come on, Squall," Rinoa chirped. "Live a little!"

When a glower didn't affect their entreaties, Squall decided on a different tactic. "You all want me to lose the jacket?" he asked.

"And the gloves," Zell piped up. "You've got nice hands."

"Fine." The chorus of delighted cheers and laughter was cut off by his next words. "But only if each of you changes something, too. Zell—you're off the hook. You _did_ change your hair."

Squall let the fur-trimmed leather drop from his shoulders and pulled off his gloves, laying them on his bed. "Irvine, lose the coat and hat."

"Wha'?" Irvine dragged lavender eyes from Squall's exposed shoulders.

"You heard me. Off with them."

"But—"

"A deal's a deal, Irvy," Selphie admonished.

Grumbling fiercely, Irvine complied.

Quistis hid a smile. "Early morning hat hair, hmmm?"

"Speaking of hair…" Squall reached up and pulled the clip from Quistis' yellow tresses. Her hair tumbled down around her shoulders, slightly crinkled where the barrette had held it.

While everyone was staring, Squall walked behind Selphie, gathered up her hair from its usual flip, and pinned it neatly at the nape of her neck with Quistis' clip.

The five of them looked at each other's new looks, then, as one, turned to Rinoa.

"What does she have to do?" Irvine was the first to put voice to the question.

Squall smiled slightly, leaned into Rinoa, and whispered in her ear. She gasped and turned a murderous look on him.

"Fine," she said waspishly. "But I'm not used to this yet, so you're solely responsible for anything that might happen." Rinoa closed her eyes. A moment later a suggestion of ethereal wings sprouted from her back as she concentrated on using her sorcery. Unsure of what was supposed to happen, they all stared at her.

It was hard to see anything at first, but Selphie suddenly pointed and shrieked, "Look at her hair!"

The pale streaks in her black hair were darkening, looking as though the lighter colors were bleeding out through the tips, being replaced by glossy, raven's wing black.

Squall nodded approvingly as her hair settled on a solid color. "Much better," he commented as she opened her eyes. "What?"

Eyes bulging, Rinoa covered her mouth with one hand. "Uh-oh," she said, her voice strained high and thin.

Looking around in panic, Squall quickly saw the source of her upset. Quistis and Zell looked normal, but Selphie and Irvine had both undergone a profound change. The former now had metallic gold hair, and the latter was sporting a platinum blond ponytail.

"Ah." Squall blinked in surprise. "Looks good," he finally managed. "Suits your eyes."

Looking around for confirmation, he noticed that everyone was staring at him. Zell was slack-jawed in astonishment and… was that a hint of drool at the corner of Quistis' mouth?

"I warned you!" Rinoa declared as he reached a hesitant hand up to tug a lock of hair into his field of vision. He didn't believe what he saw.

In a daze, Squall pivoted on his heel and walked into the bathroom. He flicked on the light and stared into the mirror, practically daring his reflection to contradict his expectations.

It did.

A newly blond Irvine loomed behind him. "Looks good," he parroted, then bit his lip to keep from laughing.

Selphie appeared at his elbow. "Suits your eyes." She blinked rapidly then darted out to throw herself into his bed and laugh hysterically into his discarded jacket.

Zell and Quistis peered around the doorframe, their heads stacked atop each other like a child's building blocks.

"I like it," they said in unison.

"It's you," Quistis told him.

"Very sexy," Zell added suggestively.

Squall blinked, hoping it would change things.

It didn't.

"Where's Rinoa?" he whispered.

"She went to ask Matron how to fix it," Zell informed him.

"Oh, good." He ran a hand through his hair then looked down at it, checking to see if the color had come off.

It hadn't.

It did suit his eyes, he had to admit, because right now they were the same color: silver-blue with hints of violet.


	3. Goodbye, Rinoa

Squall stumbled out of the bathroom to his bed. He unceremoniously shoved a giggling Selphie to the floor—still holding his jacket—and lay on his back, one arm over his eyes.

Peering indignantly over the edge of the bed, Selphie said, "I didn't know you were so vain."

Lifting his arm, Squall looked quizzically at her.

"You get all huffy when we ask you to change the way you dress, and now you're throwing a tantrum because your hair is a different color!" She bounced up and knelt next to him. "If it makes you feel better, you look great." She smiled fondly at him and prodded an exposed arm. "Skin is good."

Eyeing the copious amount of skin exposed by Selphie's tiny dress, Squall scoffed. "You would say that."

"She's right, though," Quistis said. She walked over and sat on the bed opposite Selphie, between Squall and the wall. Tracing a finger down his naked arm, she added, "You've got great skin."

"You're a silver-haired pretty boy now, Squall." Zell's eyes sparkled with glee. "You'll have to beat the girls off with a stick."

"And the boys." Irvine smiled seductively and sashayed over to sit beside Selphie. He fingered one of Squall's multitudinous belts. "I wonder if the color change was all over?"

The three seated around Squall exchanged glances.

They looked down at Squall.

They smiled, predatorily.

His eyes went wide.

Zell jumped onto the bed, glaring at them. "Knock it off," he scolded. "Would you think it was so funny if it was you?" He turned to the closest of them. "Quistis?"

She ducked her head, loose hair falling over her face. "No," she whispered. "Sorry."

Squall lifted a hand to touch her face, buried as it was in her golden hair. She raised her eyes to meet his. Squall blinked. He opened his mouth.

"What a pretty picture you all make," Rinoa said. Five heads turned to her. "We need to start for Balamb if I'm going to catch my train. I'll explain what Edea told me along the way."

Sheepishly mumbling apologies, Selphie and Irvine rose from the bed. Zell stood next and offered his hands. Quistis and Squall each took one and allowed themselves to be hauled up to their feet.

Stepping around the people crowded into his room, Squall moved up to Rinoa and solicitously offered his arm. "Milady," he said.

Rinoa eyed him suspiciously. "What's with you?"

"I don't have a stick."

Zell snorted.

"Huh?" Rinoa looked at the sniggering blond, and then took in the others' expressions. Guilty good humor showed on all of their faces.

Dubious, but eager to be moving, Rinoa linked her arm through Squall's and they set out, the rest of the group trailing behind.

"What did Matron say?" Squall asked as they walked to the garage. The six of them were collecting a lot of stares.

"She said that I had focused on getting rid of 'those freakish light streaks' thank you very much for _that_ phrase you jerk, rather than adding dark, or transmuting the color. When I forced the color out, it apparently ended up on all of your heads."

"That doesn't make sense." He paused, getting bumped by the closely following Selphie in the process. Squall flashed the petite now blonde an irritated look before continuing, "You didn't have any of these colors in your hair." His gesture took in Selphie's gleaming gold—and tidily pinned—cap, Irvine's near-white locks, and his own gently shimmering mop.

She shrugged. "Time Compression doesn't make any sense, but we lived through it. It's just one of those things. Magic is like that. What is wrong with these people?" The last was in reference to the vast quantity of onlookers circled about them. Every one of them was getting some attention, but the majority of stares were directed at Squall.

"This is what I was talking about," Zell commented. "People just go crazy over silver-haired pretty boys."

"Let's…" Squall swallowed. "Let's get out of here."

They edged cautiously forward and the gathered crowd parted silently.

"This is creepy," Selphie said. There were a few nods of agreement, but no one spoke again until they were safely in a car and halfway to Balamb.

"Tell me you can fix this." Squall was the first to speak. "Please," he added, and edge of desperate pleading creeping into his voice.

"I don't dare try. Edea said it's probably temporary, but if I start messing with it, it might become permanent—or something worse could happen."

"How long?" Squall wanted to know.

"If it hasn't started to revert to normal in two weeks, get in touch with me and I'll give it a shot."

Squall sighed. A minimum of two weeks of uncomfortable stares and people trying to get into his pants. Even if the attention felt… good?

He was grateful to Zell for defending him, but Squall knew that a part of him had been excited by the idea of his three friends—all of whom he had shared some intimacies with yesterday—pinning him to his bed.

His mind wandered in that direction for some time, until an uncomfortable throb reminded him that excessively tight pants were a bad idea in a crowd. Trying to turn his thoughts onto a safer path, Squall realized that among his circle of friends, the only one he hadn't kissed was Zell. Glancing over, he noticed how much softer the shorter man looked, his tattoo partially obscured by a sweep of soft, yellow hair.

Realizing that he was staring, pale eyebrows deeply furrowed, Squall looked away. As he turned, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window. He studied it curiously, with a detachment he'd been incapable of back in his own brightly lit room.

Without the deceptive bulk of his jacket his shoulders looked narrower and his neck longer. Where his brown hair had contrasted with his fair skin, the new hair seemed to match it. He almost seemed to glow, as if he were carved from pure, solid light. Also, he had failed to notice in his initial shock that the scar Seifer had gifted him with had gone pale. No longer obtrusively red, it was hardly noticeable; it was two shades paler than the surrounding skin. He traced the outline of his reflection with one finger, awestruck.

"…Squall!" He turned placidly to Rinoa who, judging by the looks the others were giving him, had been trying to get his attention for some time.

"What?"

"We're here." She waited. "Open the door and get out of the car," she elaborated.

"Damn, sweetheart," Irvine's voice floated after him as he sheepishly complied. "Are you just _now_ figuring out how hot you are? We've all known that for a long time." There were nods and mumbled assent.

Squall sighed, decided to ignore Irvine, climbed out of the car, and turned to offer his hand to Rinoa.

She accepted with a sly smile. Once on her feet, she leaned in to embrace Squall. Standing on tiptoe, she gently kissed his cheek. "You look stunning." Grinning, she released him. "Let's go."

Squall stood, gaping after her, while Rinoa headed toward the train station, quartet of blonds in tow. They quickly disappeared.

An unexpected voice came from behind. "That's a new look for you, Squall. I like it."


	4. And Hello, Seifer

Seifer was propped against the side of a building, enjoying the shade, when he saw a Garden issue car pull up. He watched in idle curiosity as, after a long pause, a door opened and disgorged a fascinating head of silvery hair. It was faintly blue, like polished steel, and the sunlight shimmered off of it in brilliant flashes of purple highlights. A body quickly followed, and turned back to the car. Milky arms and shoulders were well showcased by a form-fitting, sleeveless shirt of a dingy grey that is only achieved by wearing white too long and too often.

His attention was diverted by a number of blonds pouring out of the vehicle. It wasn't until Seifer saw the hint of intricate tattoo showing though a glowing fall of yellow hair that he realized what he was seeing. He looked back at the pretty, silver haired, young man. Sure enough, there were the usual black pants and excessive belts.

Guilt and bitter regret rose in his throat as he watched Rinoa, minus the strange streaks she wore in her hair, lean forward and kiss Squall before leaving him, inexplicable blonds trailing behind.

"That's a new look for you, Squall. I like it." The words left his mouth before he could stop them, so he quickly schooled his features into his practiced smirk.

"Seifer." Squall's voice was flat as he turned his longtime adversary. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, relax." Seifer spread his hands innocently. "I'm not here to cause trouble."

"That's a first."

A surprised laugh burst out. "A joke, Leonhart? From you?"

"No." Squall tried to look darkly menacing, but couldn't quite keep the corner of his mouth from twitching.

Seifer spotted it and smiled. "It's hot as hell out here. Want to grab a drink with me?" When Squall looked hesitant, Seifer added, a hint of despair straining the words, "I… I really need to talk to you."

"…Alright."

By the time they had settled themselves at a small café table, drinks in hand, Seifer had regained his composure. "I do like the new look. What prompted it?"

"Long story."

"Must be good. I _love_ the hair." He batted his eyelashes coquettishly, then laughed at Squall's glare. "Relax," he urged, "we're not here to fight."

"Then why are we here?"

"I've always liked that about you. You're persistent."

"So answer the question."

The table rattled under Seifer's fist. "This isn't easy, Leonhart!"

"Stop wasting my time. Talk, or I'm leaving." Squall made a move to stand. Seifer's hand on his gave him pause. Slate eyes met jade.

"Please, just—" Seifer didn't know what he wanted to say. He just knew he didn't want Squall to leave him. "Just… wait."

Staring impassively into Seifer's proud, pleading eyes, Squall settled back down in his seat. "Since you ask so nicely," he said.

A pained smile crept over the blond. "Thanks," he whispered. He took a large swallow from his drink, not tasting it, then pressed the cold glass to his forehead.

Squall observed his erstwhile rival over the top of his own glass. Seifer seemed different. He wasn't the crazed man who had thrown a terrified Rinoa to Adel, but neither was he the bright, arrogant youth that had marked Squall's face in what they both knew was more than a friendly training match.

Then again, Squall wasn't the same person as the one who had retaliated in hollow, echoing fury.

"She changed us both, didn't she?" Squall remarked. "Ultimecia, I mean."

Seifer froze at the name then nodded glumly. "The bitch."

"What happened?"

Pain glazed over green eyes, dulling them. "I don't want to get into that out here in public." He paused. "I've got a room in the hotel." He saw Squall stiffen. "It's too exposed out here," he explained.

"I have no reason to trust you, Seifer," Squall said, "and every reason not to. _You_ taught me that."

"Afraid for your virtue?" Seifer tried to smirk, but he couldn't make his mouth work.

"No. I think if you were interested in that, you would have done more than electrocute me while I was your prisoner."

Visible guilt washed over Seifer in a harsh wave. "I am sorry for that."

His voice was so raw that Squall jerked in shock and met his eyes in a long look. There was a timeless moment as they spoke without words. Eventually, Squall blinked and said, "Let's go."

They silently walked to the hotel. Seifer opened the door to his room and gestured for Squall to enter ahead of him.

Nervous, Squall did so. Flicking on the light, he inspected to room to assure himself that it wasn't an ambush. There was a large bed, a small table, and a single chair. Nothing more. "Nice," he commented as Seifer followed him in and shut the door. "It looks more comfortable than the triple rooms I generally end up in."

"I've always wondered about those. Three beds in one room just smacks of orgy, don't you think?" Seifer flopped bonelessly into the chair. "Have a seat," he said, waving a hand at the bed.

He raised one suspicious, gleaming eyebrow, but Squall perched on the edge of the bed.

"Loosen up, Squall. You look like a virgin in a whorehouse."

"How would you know?"

Seifer laughed. "So how long have you had a sense of humor?"

"So how long are you going to avoid the subject?" Squall retorted.

"You want to know about my whorehouse experiences? You sick little puppy." Seifer's grin was mocking.

"No," Squall answered, unfazed, "I want to know what happened to you. You obviously weren't possessed, but you weren't yourself, either." He frowned at a thought. "Or were you?"

"No!" Seifer bolted up straight in his chair. "No," he repeated quietly. "I wasn't me. Or if I was, I wasn't entirely sane."

He rose and began pacing. "When I heard that you had been assigned to help Rinoa—just three brand-spanking-new SeeDs—I was angry. I knew Rinoa would have some half-baked, idiotic scheme that would probably get you killed. You're too much of a good little soldier-boy to argue with stupid orders."

He paused, waiting for Squall's protest. When it didn't come, he continued. "I tried to complain to the headmaster, but the officious bitch Xu got in my face. I cussed her out and she had me thrown into detention." He looked into Squall's hard, grey eyes. "I didn't want you getting hurt. I didn't want Rinoa to get hurt. Hell, I didn't even want Zell or that little messenger girl to get hurt! I broke out and went after you. Believe me, Squall, I had the best of intentions."

"I believe you," Squall said, softly, "but why? Why did you care?"

"What kind of cold bastard do you take me for?"

"Do you really need to ask?"

Wincing, Seifer shook his head. "I guess not."

"So then what?" Squall pressed.

"So then I figured that if I could get to the president before you did, you guys would be safe. I got caught up in it all, though. I saw you there, ready to fight me for doing no more than you would have done, and I think I snapped a little. Then, when that bitch showed up…"

"Ultimecia," Squall said, testing for a reaction.

He got one. Seifer shuddered. "Yeah," he muttered. "She seemed so familiar… and when she spoke I could just _feel_ how strong she was, how sure of herself. I felt like I was drowning and she was the only thing that could save me. I could hold onto her, she would save me, and I could be what I had always wanted… at least, that's what it felt like."

Looking at the horror-filled expression on Seifer's face, Squall felt nauseated.

"I—_can't_—tell you what she did to me, but when she was done, she… she owned me."

It obviously cost Seifer a great deal to admit that. His broad shoulders were slumped in defeat. His voice trembled as he went on. "I feel sick just thinking about it. Her magic and her mind and her body… and knowing whose body it really was… That hurt the most."

"'Body…?'" Squall breathed. "Seifer, what are you telling me?"

Seifer turned away so that he could not meet Squall's eyes. "Dammit, Squall, don't make me say it."

Standing silently, Squall stepped behind the large blond. "I'm sorry," he said, softly, "but I have to be clear on what you mean." He was standing as close to Seifer as he could without actually touching him. "There can't be any room for a misunderstanding, here."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Too bad. Do it anyway." His voice was hard, now.

"Why's it so damn important, anyway?" Seifer remained resolutely turned away.

A hesitant hand touched the blond's arm. Seifer winced, but didn't move away. "You can either tell me now, or you can tell somebody who doesn't give a shit about you later. Your choice." Squall fought to keep his voice cold, uncaring. "There're a lot of people out there who'd be happy to hear every sordid detail. You don't have many friends."

A long, shuddering breath was released. Seifer's voice was thick when he answered. "She raped me, Squall. She fucking _raped_ me. With her magic, and with Matron's body." He spun around, glaring down at Squall from his greater height, tears spilling from his eyes and tracing down his cheeks. "She tore through my mind, made me remember everything, made sure I _knew_ what was going on… made sure it hurt." The last was in a harsh whisper, as were his next words. "I relive it every night, I'm not going through it again during the day." His voice rose again, "Can you imagine finding the closest thing to a mother that you've ever had, then having her chain you down like a rabid dog and… and…" He couldn't finish the thought, let alone the sentence. He turned his anger on the only target available; he spat out, "I'll just bet you're enjoying this, you bastard. A fitting revenge after what I did to you, right?"

"No," Squall said, horrified. "No," he whispered again, and again, and again. He stared at the open agony of his rival, his enemy, his friend, and unthinkingly wrapped his arms around Seifer and held him closely.

Seifer flinched, then, realizing that it wasn't an assault, rested his cheek in Squall's glimmering hair and wept.

Neither knew how long they stood that way, wrapped in each other's arms. Squall held Seifer's strong body up, wondering at—and incensed by—whatever could reduce this pillar of strength and self-assurance to a shivering wreck. Seifer clung to the smaller man like an anchor, relying on the cold exterior to keep him here in this world, away from the nightmares.

After enough pain had leaked out of his eyes and his chest stopped quaking with sobs, Seifer stepped back. He looked down at the girlishly pretty face of one of the world's greatest warriors and sighed. The hair had gone soft, the eyes looked less cold without the dark line of eyebrow to offset the pale, shifting colors, but the mouth was the same as it had always been. Soft, pale pink lips, set in a permanent pout; lips that should have been gentle and inviting, yet were so hard, so cold.

Just like the rest of Squall. He was all soft prettiness, all delicate beauty, until you saw the disdain in his luminous eyes, heard the curt dismissal in his silken voice. Seifer feared the price for his moment of weakness. He feared it even more when Squall took his hand and pulled him to the bed. He steeled himself against pain when Squall reached out a hand to him.

Gently brushing away tears from Seifer's chiseled cheek, Squall spoke. "I was always jealous of you, Seifer. You were stronger and faster than I was, you had friends, you were never afraid…" He swallowed hard and studied Seifer's puzzled face. "You have no idea how much I wanted to be like you. So fearless." He laughed softly. "Now I find out that you're human after all."

"What do you want from me?" Seifer asked suspiciously.

"I want to know that you're okay. I want to know that the Seifer Almasy I spent so many years trying to copy is alive and well, not dead with someone else wearing his shell."

Closing his eyes, Seifer whispered, "I don't know anymore. That bitch took so much away from me… she gave me a cause, but she stole my purpose."

One eye opened. "Huh. Don't I sound poetic?" Scorn practically dripped from his lips.

Squall raised a hand and traced Seifer's mouth with a thumb. "You often do," he murmured.

Grabbing Squall's wrist, Seifer breathed, "What are you doing?"

Reclaiming his hand, Squall shrugged. "I'm still not good with people. It seems like every time someone I care about is upset they want me to touch them." Concern furrowed his eyebrows. "Of course, no one else has had the problem that you do." He pulled back, giving Seifer more space. "I'm sorry."

He tried to make a joke of it, but Seifer's voice came out far more seriously than he intended. "You just wanted to get your hands on me."

Squall merely stared, neither admitting to, nor denying, the accusation.

Seifer pulled himself around and settled back on the bed, hands laced behind his head, flat on his back, flowing grey trench coat tangled up with his legs. Conversationally, he said, "I don't know if I could ever touch another woman after that bitch. I still wake up screaming."

Moving around until he was stretched out alongside Seifer, Squall rolled to his left hip and propped his head up on one hand. He watched the blond carefully.

Seifer lowered his right hand, letting it rest on his stomach, and turned to look at Squall. "I made jokes about defending your virtue. If I had any left, I think I'd be worried about mine."

"I won't hurt you."

"I wish I could believe you."

A beat of silence passed.

"If she was as bad as you say, why did you obey her?" Squall's voice was quiet, edged with curiosity, but not anger.

"She—I was confused. I wasn't myself." His eyes clenched shut at the memories. "She broke me, Squall. She got inside my head and hurt me until I was nothing, then built me back up until I was hers. She was my mother, my lover, my creator, my destroyer… my world. I wanted nothing but to please her, and I hated myself for it." He jumped as warm fingertips brushed his forehead, then relaxed a little and let them try to soothe away his pain. "I was her dog," Seifer said bitterly, "and she trained me well."

"Seifer," Squall said, his hushed voice rich with rare emotions. "Seifer… listen to me." He lifted his hand and moved it down, to hold Seifer's hand where it still lay on his stomach. "You were a victim, the same as the rest of us. She may have broken you, but you've made a good start on fixing yourself."

Squall laughed softly. "I remember when we were told that you had been executed for assaulting the president… everyone was so upset. I laughed." He met Seifer's pained, angry, beautiful green eyes and squeezed the hand he held. "I laughed because I knew the last thing that the proud, strong, brave Seifer Almasy would want was a bunch of people crying over his memory." Squall smiled meaningfully. "I wasn't happy that you were gone—you may have been a pain, but I always liked you—but I refused to tarnish your image with empty platitudes." He leaned down and laid a light kiss on the scar between Seifer's startled eyes. "Stop mourning yourself. You wouldn't want that."

Seifer allowed the words to sink in along with the damp kiss still resting on his forehead. He pulled his left hand out from behind his head and traced a finger over his scar. Then he reached up and traced Squall's paler, mirror-image scar. "You've always been the one to make me better than I am," Seifer said. He sank his raised hand into Squall's glinting, silver hair and pulled the smaller man down. He softly kissed the perfect, pale pink of Squall's mouth, then released him.

"Thanks."

Squall just smiled down at him. "Anything else I should know?"


	5. The Art of Wearing Selphie

Squall came downstairs and had no sooner opened the front door of the hotel than someone ran into him.

He rocked back from the impact then looked down at the fallen body on the floor. "Déjà vu," he commented dryly, and extended a hand.

"What do you mean?" Selphie asked, taking his hand and bouncing to her feet.

"We first met when you mowed me down in the hall before our SeeD exam. Remember?"

"Mowed you down? I seem to recall being the one on the floor that time, too." Her eyes, if anything, sparkled even more brilliantly green under the new-minted gold of her hair.

Squall smiled. "You look like jewelry."

Selphie gaped at him. "Are you feeling okay? You're being nice. You're a great guy, Squall, but you're never _nice_."

The smile dropped from his face. "This is the reaction I get, and you wonder why I'm never nice?"

"Oh, don't go all stuffy on me. I was just surprised."

"What do you want, Selphie?" His voice was hard.

"I'm sorry. You said something really nice to me, even if I don't understand it, and I act like you're a freak. Tell you what. I look like jewelry, so you can wear me. How's that sound?" She grinned up at him. "I can be a bracelet," she held his wrist and plastered herself to his side, "or a necklace. Would you like another necklace?" She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung there, her feet dangling off the ground.

Squall fought to keep his face stern.

"Ooh! I know! I'll be your new earring!"

Laughter bubbled up and escaped from Squall as he intercepted Selphie's hand on its way to his ear. "You win," he stated.

Blinking with her best effort at innocence, Selphie said, "Were we fighting?" She looked him over and spoiled his attempt at righteous indignation by laughing in his face. "C'mon!" she exclaimed brightly. "We've got a crowd again, and I know you hate the stares."

That said, she scampered up his back, got a grip on his neck, reached one hand down to slap his butt, and ordered, "Ya, mule!"

Desperately wanting to throw her off, or at least rub his forehead in exasperation, Squall decided that getting out as soon as possible was the lesser evil. He walked out the hotel's door, carrying a crowing Selphie.

Once outside he tried to dump her off, but between the arms wrapped around his throat and the legs wrapped around his waist, he couldn't shake her.

"Get off me," he pleaded.

"Nope. Not until we get to talk."

"About what?"

"We need to finish yesterday's conversation."

He shuddered. She'd gotten him to agree to kiss her, which he wasn't entirely adverse to, but only as a surrogate for Irvine, which did bother him some. "Here? Now?" he temporized.

"Not here," she conceded. The street in front of the hotel was not the best locale. "Over by the docks. It's quiet, there."

Seeing no other way out, he went where she indicated. Tucked into an isolated nook, obscured by a parked car and close enough to the water to hear it slosh against the pier, Squall asked, "Will you get off me, now?"

"When you ask so prettily? Of course I'll get you off." Selphie slid down him and slunk around his side to face him. "You're so cute when you blush," she said, grinning.

"If I kiss you, will you go away?" Squall demanded, hand on hip in irritation.

"I said I wanted to _talk_, Mr. Teapot." She gave him a stony look, all cheerfulness gone from her lustrous emerald eyes. "I didn't realize I was such a burden on your time, though."

She turned to leave. For a brief moment, Squall considered letting her go—the old Squall certainly would have—but he knew that allowing Selphie to leave with that pain of rejection written across her face would be too cruel.

"…Wait," he called to her.

"Why?" She didn't look at him, but she did stop moving away.

He stepped up behind her, gently folded her into his arms, and spoke softly into her hair. "I'm sorry." He kissed the top of her glinting, golden head. "What did you want to talk about?"

"About yesterday." She sighed and nestled herself into his body. "I wanted to apologize for not showing up last night, and to apologize for telling you I would."

"What do you mean?"

"After I left you, I went to talk to Irvine. We got a lot of things worked out between us… and we talked about you."

"About me?" Squall lifted his head to frown down at her.

Selphie turned her head sideways and looked up to meet his ocean blue eyes. "About you," she confirmed. "I told him what happened after I saw you two kissing." She had the grace to color slightly at the memory of her reaction. "Irvy said that if you were man enough to kiss him for his sake, then he could be man enough to kiss me for mine. But, you know, even though it felt good, it didn't feel _right_. It was a nice kiss, but there wasn't any magic in it, if that makes any sense. He said it's because he felt like he was kissing his sister, and I think he was right.

"The thing that really got me, though, was what it felt like for just the bare moment when we kissed. I mean," she turned in his arms to face him, "you and me. I felt a spark of something there that I didn't feel with Irvy."

Astonished, Squall floundered for something to say. He was no closer to speech when Selphie continued.

"I told him about that, too. And I said that I really wanted to show up in your room that night, to see if you felt it too."

Squall tried to say something, anything, but Selphie laid a finger on his lips and smiled up at him.

"Irvy," she continued, "told me that it would be really unfair to do that to you. That's when he told me that _he_ had promised to meet you that night—even though he was just teasing you. We agreed to leave you alone that night, and talk to you today, instead. Irvine will probably find you later."

Selphie laughed suddenly, her eyes glowing green with amusement. "It's just as well. When I met Zell to check on Ragnarok's engines he couldn't stop talking about how great you were and how you two were going to hang out later. I can only imagine the mess you would have had with the three of us showing up on your doorstep."

"It could have been worse," Squall muttered, thinking of the riot he'd imagined. At Selphie's quizzical look he shook his head. "Don't worry about it." His expression grew serious. "I don't know what to say to all this."

"Say you felt something, too. Or say you didn't. I just want to know, one way or the other."

"I… I felt something. I just don't know what. There was so much happening yesterday, I still haven't figured it all out, yet."

"Well, then," she replied, warmth rising in her voice, "want to try again?"

Squall started to shake his head in an automatic no, but paused. He looked down at her, looking like a living statue of spun gold and precious gems, and felt her body, soft yet firm, pressed against him. He felt an involuntary tightness between his legs; looking at her, he knew she felt it.

"Can I take that for a yes?" she asked, mischief riddling her face.

Breathless, he nodded and leaned down to her; she lifted her head and their lips met.

Heat coursed from their joined mouths and ignited every part of his body. His nerve endings were sensitive to every brush of her body, every slip of bare skin against his, every whisper of breeze blowing in from the ocean. His ears roared with the rush of blood through his veins, drowning out the noise of the city and the pounding of the waves. He slid his hands down her back, then lifted her, cupping her buttocks where the short dress had ridden up.

He felt her arms over his shoulders, fingers in his hair, and her legs wrapped around his hips, grinding her body into him. He stifled a gasp in her mouth, then another when she moved her hips in a slow circle against his. He gasped out loud and shuddered, weak-kneed, when she kissed down the line of his jaw and sucked softly at the base of his neck.

"So," she whispered, the breath tickling over moist skin and making him shiver, "feel anything?"

"You…" he struggled for breath. "You could say that."

"And could I say _what_ you felt?" she asked him, voice husky with desire.

"I… I don't know." He frowned in thought, then smiled mischievously at her. "You're a lovely girl, my little bellyband, so it could just be garden variety lust."

Selphie laughed in delighted surprise. "Garden variety lust between a couple of SeeDs. I didn't think you even knew what a pun was." She winked at him, so he didn't bother correcting her; he hadn't tried to make a joke. "Bellyband?" she continued.

"You're emerald and gold and wrapped around my waist."

"A little lower than that," she replied seductively. He blushed.

Unclasping her legs, Selphie slid down to her feet. She modestly pulled her dress down and smoothed out the wrinkles. "I'm supposed to be finding you, since you missed Rinoa leaving. Where'd you go?"

"Something came up."

She eyed his pants knowingly. "I noticed."

He blushed a little more.

"I'll leave you to think about it," Selphie said. She leaned in close to him. "I'll think about it, too." After a brief kiss and an overly familiar squeeze of her hand, she was gone.

Stumbling slightly, Squall stepped over and sat on the edge of the dock. He had a lot to think about.


	6. In the Pink with Irvine

Water rippled, clear and warm, around Squall's bare feet as he idly swished them around. He'd removed his shoes, plain white socks rolled up neatly inside them, and pulled his pant legs up to keep them dry. He was sitting back, his weight on his arms propped behind him; the eyes were closed, but his face was turned up to the sun like some exotic flower.

The bridge of his nose was burned slightly pink.

Irvine watched Squall like that, utterly motionless, for several minutes. He finally decided that letting Squall get sunburned would be a bad idea. He moved silently to Squall's side and crouched down. "You should get out of the sun, paleface," he said quietly, the smile on his face readily apparent in his voice.

Squall didn't respond. Irvine waited for some reaction, finally deciding that Squall was asleep before he heard a faint sigh.

Rolling his head languidly to one side, Squall half-opened stormy eyes. "Not yet," he said.

"You're going to burn."

"I'll take a potion later. Or something." Squall opened his eyes fully, although the rest of him stayed the same. "Sit with me?" He studied Irvine, how the pale blond of his hair offset the gentle violet of his eyes. How, without the coat, it was easier to see the graceful lines of his body under the thin shirt. Even the purple vest didn't seem wrong; it just accented his eyes.

Irvine, for his part, noticed the scrutiny, but was unclear as to what it might mean. "Sure," he answered at last. He sat down and mimicked Squall; pulling off his tall boots and socks, he rolled up his leathers and trailed his feet in the clear water. They both turned their faces to the sun.

"This is nice," Irvine said after a bit. "Relaxing."

"Yes. I've been told I need to relax more." Squall paused a moment before saying, in the same everyday voice, "Selphie tells me that you were teasing me yesterday."

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I just couldn't help myself."

"Why?"

"You're just too pretty for me not to. At first it was an act for Selphie, to get the point across, but then it was because you looked so adorable in my hat… I couldn't resist." Irvine smiled at the memory.

"No," Squall said, still not looking at anything. "I meant, why tease at all? Why not ask for real?"

Irvine gaped, speechless.

"You're a very attractive man, Irvine. You don't know that I wouldn't have said yes."

"But… you said you aren't gay!"

"Did I? Are you sure?"

Thinking back, Irvine realized that Squall had only asked in what way he seemed to be gay. He'd never actually denied it. "So, does that mean you are gay?" Irvine asked.

"No."

"Then why—"

"I don't know what I am. I've had a lot thrown at me lately, and I'm trying to sort it out." He finally turned to look at Irvine. "I can only go with facts right now. One, you _are_ an attractive man. Two, that kiss yesterday felt very good."

"And three?"

"Three doesn't apply to you." Squall smiled, the devilish grin that seemed to have been born only days ago but seemed to show up with increasing regularity. "Somewhere about seven or eight is the fact that I like being around you."

Chuckling, Irvine playfully punched Squall in the arm.

Squall retaliated with a sharp poke to the ribs.

Irvine pushed Squall.

Squall pushed Irvine.

They grappled together, both laughing at the sheer silliness of it all.

Squall kissed Irvine.

Irvine froze, too shocked to respond to the lips touching his, entreating him to come out and play some more.

Pulling back from Irvine's wooden body, Squall frowned. He shook his head, opalescent hair flying around him in a shining halo. He tried to speak, but could think of nothing to say to that blank face staring down at him. He looked down, embarrassed and ashamed.

A hesitant touch on his cheek made him look up again. Irvine, wearing a puzzled smile, was inspecting him. "You surprised me."

"Just forget it."

"No can do, sweetheart. Why'd you do it?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does." With a gentle finger under his chin, Irvine turned Squall's face so that he could meet the cloudy blue eyes. "It does matter."

"I said it before; I don't know what I am. It can't be right for me to feel this way about all of you." Pulling away from Irvine's touch, Squall looked away. "There must be something wrong with me."

"Why would anything be wrong? Exactly how do you feel about us?" Irvine watched Squall intently. "How do you feel about me?" he asked, more quietly.

"I feel about you the same as everybody else. I like you, I care about you, you're a friend. And you're beautiful. I don't know how I managed to get such a good-looking group of people around me." He tried to make it a joke. He almost succeeded. His eyes closed again.

"Look at me," Irvine ordered gently. "Look at me, and tell me what you see."

Blue eyes snapped open, then softened as Squall considered what to say. "You… you're amethyst and platinum. You're a sideways smile, a flirt, a tease. I look at you and I see the guy that always annoys Quistis with come-ons, and I see the man I had to talk into taking the shot in Deling. Now that I know why you couldn't do it at first, I see someone I admire, someone who recognized something that hurt but still did what needed to be done. I look at you and I see someone who fought beside me, who risked his life for me, who I risked my life for. And I see that in all of you!"

Squall placed his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. His next words were muffled and indistinct. "I kissed you because I need to know if I really feel attracted to all of you, or if I just can't tell friendship from something more. I didn't let myself feel for so long; now I can't distinguish just what it is that I'm feeling."

Irvine considered Squall's words as the latter lapsed into silence. They sat, side by side, kicking the water into small waves while the sun beat down on them.

Finally, Irvine spoke. "I never even considered how confused you must be. You started blocking off your emotions after Sis left and are only now letting them out again." Irvine shook his head. "You've spent over half your life denying that you felt anything; it's no wonder you can't figure out what you feel now."

Letting out a long, slow breath, Irvine reached up and rested a hand on Squall's shoulder. "This is mostly my fault—I pushed you into kissing me yesterday. It's only fair that I try to help fix it. Go ahead and kiss me."

"What?" Squall blinked, balanced somewhere between offense at the presumption and desire to do as he was asked.

"Go on, kiss me. See how you feel when you're done. I promise I'll kiss back this time, if that's what's worrying you."

"No. I'm not going to kiss you just because you feel obligated to let me."

"Trust me, I'll like it."

"No!"

"Please?"

"Irvine… stop. You're confusing me."

Smiling fondly, Irvine said, "I'd like to kiss you, but I want _you_ to kiss _me_. If I kiss you it doesn't prove anything to either of us. After all, I kissed you yesterday—and enjoyed it very much, gorgeous—but if you don't make the choice to kiss me, it doesn't count. You either want to or you don't, but _you_ have to decide."

His head had fallen back into his hands, but now Squall raised it, a fierce look in his eyes. "Irvine?"

"Hmm?"

"Shut up." Squall took his friend's face in both hands and pulled him down. They kissed, gently at first, but it quickly increased in pace and passion. Squall opened his mouth, tasted the line of Irvine's lips, then slipped inside to explore the line of teeth with his tongue.

Irvine's arms went around Squall's waist, tugged at his shirt, then ran underneath it to knead the strong, silken flesh of his back.

Squall moaned his enjoyment and pulled the band from Irvine's long hair. He threaded his hands through the heavy locks, feeling the softness falling down around Irvine's shoulders.

He was too hesitant to press further, so Irvine was delighted when Squall, never breaking the kiss, grabbed two fistfuls of shirt and dragged Irvine on top of him in a wet tangle of legs and leather, his unbound hair spilling over them both, creating a curtain from the brightness of the sun. He tried to shift his weight, so as not to crush anything sensitive on either of them, but received a painful jab from one of the multiplicity of belts.

His wince broke them apart, and he could tell that it had hurt Squall as well. "Why," Irvine asked, laughter written in his lavender eyes, "do you wear so many belts?"

"Necessity," Squall said, straight-faced.

"And how's that? So nobody can feel you up?" Irvine was propped up with both hands, looking down on a lovely, sun-pinked face, light filtered through his hair making eyes turn softly grey.

Squall smiled. "Why doesn't your gun get in your way, Kinneas?" His voice was mockingly stern.

Unsure of where Squall was going with this pop quiz of cadet knowledge, Irvine answered, "Because the para-magic bound up in the holster locks it in the void—along with my GFs—until I take it out."

"And when you draw your weapon, it has weight and mass that it previously lacked, correct?"

"Of course."

"Just how much do you think a gunblade weighs? If I didn't have all this to hold my pants up, I'd be bare-assed at the end of every battle."

Irvine burst out laughing. "I guess I never thought about it that way," he said.

"I did. I have to, because the first time I put it in my hip sheath I lost my pants."

"I'd _pay_ to see that!" Seeing the indignant look on Squall's face, Irvine dipped down and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He changed the subject. "Feel any less confused?" A sensual purr filled his voice.

"Let me think about it," Squall replied, smiling softly, but serious. "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

"Something else, then," Squall said, glaring up at the lovely blond.

"Go on." Irvine was wearing a tight grin.

"Why do you flirt so much? It makes you seem… I don't know… cheap."

The grin fell away. "Flirting is flirting. I don't ask for anything more than that. If you hadn't noticed, I mostly flirt with women—you know I don't want anything more from them. I didn't do anything with you until I needed to fix that problem with Selphie, remember? I don't flirt with Zell. I'm only casual about sex when I'm not looking for it."

Squall considered asking if that meant Irvine wasn't serious about him, but decided he didn't really want to hear the answer at this point. Instead, he asked, "Why do you always harass Quistis? She hates the way you tease her."

The grin was back. "I know. She's always so uptight; I like to mess with her."

He didn't really understand that, but Squall considered that it was similar to the reason Seifer liked to pick on Zell: some targets are just too easy. "Speaking of Quistis, I've still got to clear some things up with her." He frowned. "Any idea where she might be?"

"Actually, yeah. She was going shopping with Selphie. Something about how the yellow dress clashed with her new hair."

"Let's go find them."

The grin was there in full force, violet eyes sparkling with mischief. "Can't we cuddle a little longer?"

Irvine rolled out of reach, grinning, when Squall took a half-hearted swing at him.

"Just put your shoes on."


	7. Interlude

"I see you've located our missing Commander." Quistis sounded cheerful as she addressed Irvine.

"Yeah, he was baking himself by the docks. I rescued him before he could burn too badly."

The two looked at Squall, his cheeks and nose a dark pink. Irvine said, "You should take a potion or something for that."

"Maybe later." Squall shrugged. "Quistis, can—"

His question was cut short by Selphie's appearance. She threw open the door of the fitting room stall and bounded into their midst. "What do you think?"

Gone was the minute yellow dress. In its place were an equally short pair of royal purple shorts topped with a lavender halter. If anything, she was even more scantily clad than before.

"Wow, Sefie, you look great!"

"Oh, yes," Quistis added. "That works so much better with that hair."

Selphie made a face at her then turned to Squall. "What do you think?" She waited. "Squall! My face is up here!"

"Huh?" He blinked and Quistis bit her lip while Irvine took a sudden interest in the ceiling tiles. "Sorry. I was just looking at the beadwork." The cloth of Selphie's top ended just beneath her breasts, followed by about three inches of intricately woven beads in a complex design of interlocking waves, all in pastel shades of purple, pink, and blue.

"Riiiiiiight," Selphie drawled. "My 'beadwork.' Of course."

Lacking an appropriate response Squall simply met her eyes for a long moment. Finally he thought of something to say. "You look good."

Something in his tone made Selphie a little uneasy so she turned to Quistis, who had joined Irvine in his staring contest with the ceiling. "Okay, Quisty, it's your turn!"

Opening her mouth to speak, Quistis looked around, caught Squall's gaze, and then silently marched into the dressing room, a very small bundle clutched in one fist.

"So," Selphie turned to Squall, "did you and Irvy have a nice chat?"

After a sidelong glance to Irvine, who was self-consciously running a hand through his unbound hair, Squall mildly said, "Yes, we did."

Selphie looked back and forth between the two men, one placid and pink in a way she couldn't decide was blush or burn, and the other nervously trying to put his hair back in order in spite of the lack of mirror, or, in fact, anything to tie it back with.

Noticing this, Squall rummaged through a pocket and produced the band he'd recently taken from Irvine. "Here," he said, passing it back to its owner, "but it looks good down."

Irvine gaped, looked at the circle of plastic in his open palm, then transferred it to his vest pocket.

Having watched the byplay between them with growing interest and excitement, Selphie exclaimed, "Isn't he a great kisser?"

"Who?" Quistis had just stepped out of the dressing room.

"Squall," Selphie answered, still looking to Irvine for confirmation of her suspicions.

Irvine nodded guiltily just as Quistis said, "Oh, yes. He is a good kisser. _Very_ good." She sighed in happy remembrance as Selphie and Irvine swiveled to stare incredulously at her. "Very enthusiastic. You could even go so far as to say violent. There's a lot of passion hiding under that cold act of his. Right, Squall? Squall?"

Squall was staring, transfixed, at the vision of Quistis Trepe, former instructor, formidable fighter, and object of adulation for a sizable segment of Garden students, clad in a long, flowing dress of variegated blue, nearly transparent gauze. He could see the outline of her figure and, where the thin cloth grew pale, patches of flesh. The fabric fluttered and swayed with her every motion, sending the colors into a dance around her, promising a revelation that never quite came.

"…Beautiful," he breathed, completely unaware of what anyone had been saying around him.

Three very amused looks were exchanged before settling back on Squall, who was still staring in abject fascination.

"I was going to ask how you knew that," Selphie began.

"But it's obvious you're right," Irvine finished.

Blushing a little from Squall's unwavering attention, Quistis stepped forward and touched him gently on one bare shoulder. "Squall," she said.

"Hmm?" His eyes never moved.

"You're making me nervous."

He blinked a few times, and then seemed to wake from a trance. "Sorry," he apologized.

"I'm flattered," she told him, smiling, still touching him, "just a little freaked out." To her surprise, he didn't back away, apologize, or blush.

"Can we go somewhere and talk?" he asked, a hint of dark promise visible in his smoky eyes.

Surprised again, Quistis blinked and said, "Um, okay. Just let me pay for this." She pulled the tag from the dress and started for the sales counter.

Squall stopped her and plucked the tag from her unresisting fingers. "My treat," he said seriously, then, to everyone's astonishment, removed the tags from Selphie's new outfit as well. With a last half smile he left them to ring up the clothes with the bored girl at the counter.

A quiver ran through the three he left behind.

"If I could bottle that, I'd have it made," Irvine mused.

"What?" This from Selphie.

"He was sexy when he was an asshole. Now that he's being sweet and charming… no one stands a chance."

Quistis nodded in glum agreement. "How does he do it?"

"He's Squall," Selphie said, the statement ringing with finality. "More importantly, how do you know what kind of kisser he is, Quisty?"

"Even more importantly," the honey blonde countered, "why were you asking Irvine?"

They both turned to the man in question. Irvine looked up, still absently playing with his hair and said, "He kissed me." He shrugged. "He took my hair down in the process. I think he likes long hair." Forcing himself to drop his hands, he turned to Quistis. "Your turn."

"He… he kissed me, too. Yesterday. I don't want to get into why. I think I missed my chance, though. I should have gone to see him, like I said I would, but… something came up." She was very carefully not meeting either of their gazes.

"You, too?" Selphie laughed loudly. "I wonder if Zell made his date?"

"Zell?" Irvine asked.

"No," Quistis said, simultaneously. She had no chance to clarify that, because right then Squall returned.

"You're all paid up and ready to go," he said. "Quistis, I was wondering if—"

"Hey!" Selphie interrupted. "Why don't we pick up Zell from his mom's and all have lunch?"

Squall looked around, irritated at the interruption. Seeing that the others agreed to the suggestion, he resigned himself to the inevitable. "Alright," he said, monotone.

"Great!" Selphie grabbed both Squall and Quistis by a hand and started dragging them outside.

Unable to ward off Selphie's infectious good cheer, Squall cocked a smile back over his shoulder. "Come on, Irvine," he called, holding out his free hand.

Irvine smiled widely and hurried to take it.

Before either of them could prevent it, Squall had pulled Irvine up alongside him and deftly swapped out his hands, leaving Irvine and Selphie together and a step ahead. "I'll walk on my own, thanks," Squall said, admiring the panoramic view of three of the nicest backsides in Balamb.

It was a brief stop to collect Zell before they were all seated in a corner booth of a restaurant. Zell had the center position, looking pleased with his arms around Selphie and Quistis' shoulders. Irvine and Squall flanked them.

"We're still on vacation, right Squall?" Zell wanted to know.

"Yes."

"Can we spend a night or two here in Balamb, then?"

"I don't see why not," was the mild response.

"Yeah!" Zell exclaimed. "There's a new club I want to take you guys to."

"Sounds like fun!"

"I'm game."

"I guess I can show off my new dress."

"I don't know." Squall shook his head.

They all looked at him.

"Aww… why not?" Zell's big blue eyes were wide.

"I don't like crowds."

"We'll keep you safe, won't we?" Zell looked around, getting nods from the others. "See? Nobody'll hurt our little Squallie while we're on the job." His smirk was not well disguised.

The veil closed over Squall's features, leaving him outwardly blank and uncaring. "…Whatever." The effect was spoiled slightly by the sunburn, still untreated, forming small freckles on his nose.

"Don't be like that. Eat lunch; think about it. I'd really like you to be with us tonight, though. It wouldn't be the same without you." Pale lashes closed over lapis eyes. "Pleeeeeeeease!" Zell begged.

There was a long pause as they all stared at Squall. Finally, his face thawed. "Shrimp," was his only comment.

"Is that an insult or your order?" Zell asked smugly.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I'll go, you shrimp, and I'll have the grilled shrimp."

"You… you'll go, just like that?"

"You'd rather I didn't?"

"No! It's just… it's so unexpected." Zell grinned, toothily.

"I'm holding you to your promise," Squall said, sternly. His lips were pulled into the faintest suggestion of a smile. "If I get mobbed, you have to beat them off me."

"It's a deal!"

The server arrived to take their orders. The meal was uneventful, barring the not-so-subtle attempts on the server's part to flirt with Squall, Irvine, and Zell in that order. She seemed a little overwhelmed by the male pulchritude.

Over dessert it was decided, primarily by Selphie, that all the guys needed club clothes, and she would be happy to take them shopping.

"Why don't you three go together and I'll take Quistis," Squall countered.

Knowing—or at least speculative—looks were passed around.

"Okay," Quistis said agreeably.

Irvine and Selphie grinned broadly; they figured they knew why Squall wanted to be alone with Quistis. Zell was oblivious, too busy chasing down the last bit of strawberry purée soaked cheesecake to notice anything around him. Squall stared at him in open fascination until Quistis lightly touched his arm.

"Shall we?" She tilted her head in the direction of the door.

A smile quirked in one corner of Squall's mouth. "We shall."

The two of them dropped gil on the table to cover their portions of the meal plus a generous tip and walked out, ignoring the giggles following them.


	8. Of Clothing and Quistis

Following Quistis' lead as she skillfully negotiated the back alleys and side streets of Balamb, Squall said, "I've been wanting to talk with you."

"Oh?" Quistis tensed.

"I wanted to know why you didn't come by last night."

"I thought you might." She took a deep breath. "I was talking to Zell last night. I asked him about you."

"Why ask Zell?"

"That's what he wanted to know. I know you think a lot of him so I thought you might have told him enough for him to figure out how you might react." She fell silent.

"React?" he prompted.

"To… what I asked you."

"You told _Zell_ you asked me to sleep with you?"

"Shh!" They'd approached her chosen destination. Quistis looked around; satisfied that no one was gawping at them, she opened the door and hustled him inside.

"Why would you do that?" Squall asked, perplexed.

"Because I thought he might know. And… because I was having second thoughts." She looked down, appearing entirely too sweet and demure in her modest, yet revealing, dress.

Squall waited silently until she either spoke or picked clothing for him. After a pause, she did both.

Rifling through a rack of silky shirts, Quistis finally said, her voice flat, "Zell didn't know how you would feel about it, but he… he wanted to know why I didn't ask him."

He blinked. Quistis' carefully blank face, Zell's ease in touching her during lunch when he'd been nothing but respectful in the past… Zell showing up this morning, telling Quistis he'd fixed her _shower_…?

But… Zell?

Squall didn't know _what_ he felt: a welter of hurt, confusion, jealousy, anger… but why? Why was he hurt? Why was he angry? Just _who_ was he jealous of?

Quistis had said she didn't want to get involved, she only wanted a quick fling for the sake of experience. And Zell surely needed the comfort of a warm body after the way he'd just been dumped. Why couldn't Squall be happy for them, since they both got what they had needed?

Looking into Quistis' face, he knew why; she did not look like someone who had gotten what she wanted. She looked like she'd been hurt. He couldn't imagine Zell hurting her, though… at least, not on purpose. Maybe…

"Did… are you okay?" Squall asked, hesitantly. "Did he hurt you?"

"What?" It was Quistis' turn to blink in surprise. "No! No… nothing happened. I mean, nothing much."

"Nothing much?" He accepted the shirts Quistis thrust at him and followed her as she went to inspect pants that, at first glance, bore a striking resemblance to vinyl. "Quistis?"

"He asked why I didn't choose him. I told him that I thought he'd get too involved. He promised me he wouldn't and tried to prove it. He kissed me." She frowned at the pants she was holding up. "I think these are vinyl," she murmured.

"And?"

"Vinyl's really hot and sticky. You wouldn't want to wear it."

"Not the pants," he growled. "Zell."

"It wasn't… bad. Zell kisses like he fights—fast, hard, and full of energy. He was absolutely right, too; there wasn't even a hint of emotion to it. It was clinical… cold, even. That's when I realized I was lying to myself; I _don't_ want a quick… experience. I want more." She sighed heavily. "I figured that showing up in your room last night would be a bad idea, since you'd either take me up on my offer—which I don't want anymore—or else send me away. I decided to wait, to explain later. You've been very patient. Thanks for that." She smiled weakly and passed a couple of pairs of pants to him. "You should try those on."

Too confused to speak, Squall just nodded his compliance. Once locked in the cramped dressing room, he examined his clothing and his emotions; slowly, one at a time, he stripped himself of both.

That surge of feeling when he thought Zell had slept with Quistis… what was that? _Obviously there's something there, but for who?_ Perhaps he should break it down.

What did he feel about Quistis? She was his teacher, and in some cases his mentor. She'd also been his stalker, which was… rather less than positive. She was beautiful. Kissing her, yesterday, had been one of the most spontaneous, natural, unforced things he'd ever done in his life and it had felt incredible. He'd been prepared to do more than kiss… at least until sense had reasserted itself. He cared for her, certainly, but how much?

Now, Zell… Zell was complicated. He liked Zell. He trusted Zell. Zell was reliable. Boisterous, perhaps, frequently uncomfortable to be around, true, but very reliable and a good friend. And equally beautiful, in a different way. Squall knew that he'd felt the pull of Zell's looks when they were wrestling, staring up into those sapphire eyes, tousled blond hair falling forward, lips parted as he breathed…

Shaking himself, Squall directed his attention to the clothes Quistis had pressed on him; introspection was getting him nowhere good. "Quistis?" he called through the door. "I don't understand these pants."

Her muffled laugh carried through the door. "The laces go in the back," she said.

Eyeing the cloth suspiciously, Squall turned the pants around and shimmied into them. They felt uncomfortably short in the waistline, only barely extending past his hipbones. The back was gored and threaded with black cord, and the front crossed itself in a V, the right flap buttoning on his left hip and the left, crossing in front, buttoning on his right. He managed to get the buttons done correctly, he hoped, but couldn't quite manage the laces just below the small of his back. He opened the door a crack. "Quistis? A little help?"

Squeezing into the tiny dressing room with him, she shut the door and turned to look.

Hard pressed not to break into an overwhelmingly pleased grin, she turned him around and tightened the laces, tying them in an elaborate knot. She spun him back around and looked him over.

The iridescent fabric clung to him like a second skin, emphasizing his narrow hips and lengthening the already long line of his body. His bare, carved ivory chest was stark against the glistening expanse of black, pendant showing clearly against his skin. Silvery lashes framed silvery eyes, hair like cobwebs in the morning dew trailing down in a delicate fall making him look irresistibly coy.

Her eyes dropped and her breath hitched in her throat. "I think we've answered Irvine's question," she muttered.

"Which one?" Squall asked, unconscious of the effect he was having on her.

Reaching out a tentative hand, she lightly stroked the line of pale hair beginning just below his navel and thickening in a steady stream until it vanished into his waistline. "That's one impressive spell."

Squall caught her hand as it touched the edge of cloth and lifted it to his lips; he placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "I've been thinking," he began.

Quistis wisely refrained from a sarcastic comment.

"About what you asked," he continued. "I can't do it. Not like you said you wanted." A wry smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not emotionless. If I were to… to have sex with _anyone_, it would have to be because I have some feeling for them."

"And do you have feelings for me?" Quistis asked, uncertain what answer she was looking for.

"…I don't know. I might, but I can't tell. My world has done so many somersaults lately that I'm amazed it's not throwing up in the corner."

Startled, Quistis laughed. "Obviously, if you're making comments like that," she remarked with a sad smile. Trying to hide the perplexing hurt she felt, she pulled out one of the shirts she'd picked for him. "Here, try this one on."

It was deep blue interwoven with metallic silver. Watching Squall pull it on, Quistis noticed that his eyes darkened to a rich, clouded blue, and his hair picked up a blue sheen. He looked spectacular. "That's the one," she whispered. "You're… It's perfect."

Turning to regard himself in the mirror, even Squall was impressed. "You have good taste," he complimented Quistis.

An impulse crept over him; before he could think about it, Squall caught her hands in his own and drew her to him. He tilted his head and slowly made to kiss her; pausing a hair's breadth away, he flicked his tongue out to caress her parted lips. "Very good taste," he whispered.

Shuddering slightly, Quistis met his soft touch and responded with a kiss of her own. She slid her hands up his chest, underneath his open shirt, and worked the muscles of his body in her hands, reveling in the silken softness of his skin. Their lips moved softly together before Squall's mouth began to wander. Moaning quietly, she retaliated, action for action, grazing her teeth over the pulse in his neck and gently licking along his collarbone, exactly as he was doing to her.

A low, rumbling noise made her retreat. Squall was growling, half-closed eyes unfocused. "Squall?" she asked, concerned. "What's wrong?"

He breathed deeply, in and out, several times before answering, "I think you should go until I'm less confused." He blinked a few times, trying to control himself, still panting. "I should change back… save this for tonight."

Unsure if this was a good development or not, but having thoroughly enjoyed every touch, Quistis smiled and opened the dressing room door. "One last thing," she said, ducking out.

"What?" His voice was still unsteady.

"Buy some bikini underwear to go with those pants—it's tacky to have your undies hanging out like that." The door closed firmly behind her.

Squall turned back to the mirror and looked at the waistband of his pale green briefs peeking over his pants. _Okay,_ he thought, s_he's got a point._


	9. What the Zell?

Squall knocked politely on the door and waited. After a moment a pleasant face greeted him.

"Can I help you?"

"Hello, Mrs. Dincht. I'm looking for Zell."

A frown creased the friendly features for a moment. "Squall? Is that you?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, embarrassed.

"Goodness, child… you look so different." A broad grin spread across her features. It was obvious where Zell learned his outlook on life. "Come in, dear. Zell just got in, he'll be up in his room." She opened the door and stepped back to allow Squall entry.

"Your hair is darling," she commented brightly as he walked past her. Doing his best to ignore that, Squall walked upstairs and knocked on Zell's bedroom door.

"Just a minute, Ma! I'm getting' dressed!" Zell's words carried through the door.

"It's me," Squall said, barely audible through the solid wood.

There was a moment of silence, a rush of movement, and then the door opened.

Zell was bare-chested, displaying a silver ring through one nipple. His low-cut, skin tight, black leather pants were similar to the ones Squall had just purchased, but were open all along both sides with black, silk cord lacing them on. A silver serpentine chain hung loosely around his waist. "I was just trying on my outfit for tonight," he said in response to Squall's silence. "What do you think?"

"…Is there more?"

"What? Oh!" Zell laughed. "Don't worry, I'll have a shirt on. Hold on, let me show you." He darted away to dig through his closet.

Squall stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Looking very carefully at anything but Zell's half-naked backside, he wondered why the room felt so warm.

"Aha!" Zell shouted in triumph. He swung his chosen top around and pulled it over his head. It was nothing too special; a pleasant, warm cream color, a nice, lightweight fabric—possibly linen—and yet… the fall of the cloth accentuated the musculature underneath, and the mild color, between the stark black of the pants and the golden bronze of his beautifully tanned skin, made his eyes into blazing sapphires and his hair liquid, living gold.

"So what do you think?" Zell asked again.

There was a motion in his throat as Squall swallowed nervously. "I think," he said, and then choked. He swallowed once more and gave it another try. "I think you're not going home alone, tonight."

A delighted laugh burst from the blond. "Now _that_ is what I call a compliment!" He turned a full circle, giving Squall the full effect. "Glad you like it. So, what brings you here, oh strong-and-silent-type?" He flashed a wide grin before pulling the shirt off again.

"I…" Squall blinked. "What are you doing?"

"I don't want to wear everything out before tonight, now do I?"

Lacking a better answer, Squall shrugged. He looked down. "Can we talk?"

"I don't know. Give it a shot and we'll find out." Zell located a hanger and placed the shirt safely back in the closet. Realizing the dubious temperament of the one he was teasing, Zell apologized. "Sorry. I'm just feeling really good." He shrugged innocently and began unlacing the ties on each hip. "What's bothering you, the King of Whatever, so much that you want to actually _talk_ about it?"

Squall looked up in time to see Zell shuck his pants down around his ankles and bend to pull them off. "I— Uh— Ngh," Squall answered intelligently.

"Squall?" Zell stood in front of his friend, concern etched on his face, wearing two pieces of jewelry and—Squall's eyes flickered briefly down—nothing else.

"It's really har—difficult—to talk to you when you're… you're… Could you get dressed?" Squall stammered.

Zell fought the urge to tease his shy friend. Who knew that Squall could be modest? He struggled for self-control, though, because he knew that if he gave in to the urge the stubborn bastard would just walk out the door. "Okay," he agreed. Locating his discarded shorts, Zell quickly pulled them on before hanging up his leather pants.

Housekeeping accomplished, Zell turned to Squall, who seemed to have used the interruption to regain his composure. Settling sideways onto his bed, one leg crooked beneath him, the blond patted the space opposite him. "Have a seat. What's on your mind?" he asked, honestly concerned; he'd never seen Squall behave like this.

Buying time, Squall slowly sat, spending more time than necessary to get comfortable. Zell bore with it remarkably well.

"Promise to hear me out before you freak," Squall said at length.

Burning with curiosity, Zell nodded. "I promise."

Squall took a deep breath. "Seifer's in town. I saw him this morning." He watched Zell for a reaction. Aside from wide eyes and a quiet gasp, he remained true to his word. Satisfied, Squall continued, "When the rest of you were saying goodbye to Rinoa, I was with Seifer."

"We wondered," Zell remarked. "I think she was a little hurt by the way you vanished, but she laughed it off, said you were just sick of the attention." He grinned. "Wonderful girl. It's still hard to believe that you don't love her, after all the times you risked yourself to save her and everything."

"Zell," Squall broke into the aimless ramble, "I went back for you once, too. Does that mean we're in love? Now, if we could get back to the subject at hand…?"

"Oh, right. Sorry. So, Seifer's back. Are we going to go kick his ass? What about his goons?"

"We're going to leave him alone. I spent a couple of hours talking to him this morning, and I know he came out of this mess worse than the rest of us combined."

The haunted look on his friend's face killed the comment Zell wanted to make before it could reach his lips.

"Raijin and Fujin," Squall went on, heedless of the near-interruption, "are pulling guard duty in Dollet right now to make ends meet."

"So we're just going to leave him alone? After everything he did?"

"Zell—" Squall sighed. "Are we punishing Matron?" he asked, reasonably.

"Of course not!"

"Then why punish Seifer? He had as little choice in the matter as she did, and at least Matron doesn't have a clear recollection of everything that bitch made her do. Seifer, unfortunately, does."

"Then…" It was almost possible to see the gears shift in Zell's mind. "Why don't we bring them back to Garden? If we're not mad at them, and they're so hard up for gil, it's the best solution, right?"

Sighing sadly, Squall answered, "Wrong. It would be, but Matron's there. I don't want Seifer to see her. Sending him to either Galbadia or Trabia Garden would be a disaster, too."

"I can see that, but why don't you want him to see Matron?" Zell asked, frowning in bewilderment.

"He wouldn't tell me everything that happened, but he told me enough. I wasn't exaggerating when I said he came out the worst from this." Squall closed his eyes against the memory. "I saw some of the scars… the ones he _would_ show me. It was horrible, and that doesn't even count the things that were healed too quickly to leave a mark." He shook himself, trying to forget the tracery of raised, white lines decorating Seifer's back like some sick, post-modern artwork, and worse…

"Seifer needs normality; he needs friends, people who care. He does not need pity or loathing, which are what he would get from the majority of people."

"Sounds rough," Zell said soberly. "What do the others think?"

"You're the first one I've told."

"I… I am? But… why?"

"I trust you. Also, I know that no matter how much you hate Seifer, you're too compassionate to let that affect you." Squall smiled and fought the impulse to trace his fingers over Zell's tattoo.

Embarrassed by the unexpected compliment and restless from having been seated for so long, Zell jumped to his feet and took a few practice swings at his punching bag.

No longer in shock, Squall eyed Zell's naked upper body admiringly. All SeeDs trained themselves mercilessly, but Zell was _truly_ a honed weapon. He was all grace and lethal power when he moved, and in stillness was like a prowling tiger.

When the fighter turned, Squall caught a glimpse of something that raised him to his feet. Laying a calming hand on Zell's shoulder, he brushed pearly hair from his eyes and inspected a tattoo he'd never before seen.

A waterfall flowed from between Zell's shoulder blades, frothed down his spine, and fell into a pool at the small of his back. Swans floated tranquilly on the water, away from the turbulence of the falls, although some sunned themselves on the mossy rocks tumbled about here and there.

"This," Squall's hand hovered over the design, "is beautiful."

Tossing a grin over his shoulder, Zell said, "Thanks. I designed it myself. You can touch it if you want to."

Silently, Squall followed the tumbling path of the water with his fingers. Zell shivered under the hesitant caress.

"Does it hurt?" Squall asked, concerned.

"No, it's all healed. It just tickles a little."

The gentle touch firmed. "Better?"

"Mmyeah."

"Zell?" Squall sounded uncertain; it made for an interesting change. "Can I ask you a favor?"

"Of course. Whaddya need?"

"Quistis told me about last night." Muscles tightened under Squall's roving hands. He massaged them intently.

"I didn't—"

"I know." Squall shifted his attentions to Zell's shoulders, kneading them expertly as he spoke. "Still, at first, I thought you did… and I was jealous. The problem is," his voice remained carefully controlled, "I don't know who I was jealous of. You… or her."

"Her?" The syllable trembled in Zell's mouth.

"Her," Squall confirmed. "I care about you." He chuckled quietly, as if at a private joke. "You _are_ my best friend, remember?"

Zell hadn't moved—either to face Squall or to get away from him. "Are you trying to tell me you're gay?"

"I honestly don't know. It's like I told Irvine earlier, I can't tell the difference between friendship and… well, more than friendship." Squall pulled his hands back. His next words were so quiet that Zell had to strain to understand. "I want to ask you for a kiss, so I can try to figure out what I'm feeling." He sighed and spoke a little louder. "But you are my best friend, and I don't want to lose that because I'm otherwise confused."

Finally, Zell turned. He looked up into slate blue eyes and casually brushed a strand of silver hair back. "I was willing to have sex with Quistis." He grinned. "In light of that, kissing you is hardly a chore."

Before that had a chance to sink in Zell grabbed two fistfuls of shirt and pulled Squall close, meeting his mouth in a surprise attack.

Squall, taken aback by the sudden assault, wrapped his arms around Zell for balance. His hands glided over the golden flesh, slipping lower as Zell pushed him gradually back, pressing him into the wall; the nipple ring cut into Squall's chest, making him gasp.

Zell ran his hands down Squall's arms, gripped his wrists, and forced them back, pinning Squall's hands over his head, fiercely kissing all the while, tongues fighting each other and teeth clashing from the force.

Panting heavily, Squall succumbed to the brutal trail of lips and teeth, moaning when Zell's sharp teeth closed on his neck; he felt Zell's hot tongue moving rapidly over the spot, sending stinging shocks of pleasure through Squall's body. He retaliated, dipping his own head down to sink teeth in Zell's neck, sucking hard on the smooth flesh scented with musk.

Releasing one trapped hand, Zell curled his fingers into Squall's fine hair and jerked his head to one side, exposing a fresh stretch of unblemished neck. Growling deep in his throat, Zell renewed his onslaught on this new territory.

Dropping his freed hand between them, Squall caught the silver ring between his fingers and pulled, biting harder on the skin between his teeth, caught somewhere between a growl and a moan.

Zell hissed and threw back his head, involuntarily thrusting his hips into Squall, who pressed his advantage and pulled his other hand free. Still leaning into the wall behind him, Squall wrapped his arm around the blond, dipping his hand into the loose waistband of his shorts. Cupping one well-muscled buttock in his hand, he squeezed, digging his fingernails into the soft skin.

At that, Zell pulled back, laughing merrily. "Had enough?" he asked, smirking.

Licking his lips, Squall tasted blood. "You always like this?"

Zell shrugged. "What can I say? I like it rough. But, no, I can be gentle, too." As if to prove it, he tilted his head up and kissed Squall softly on the lips. "I noticed you weren't exactly gently, yourself," he whispered, his breath warm and teasing on Squall's mouth. He dropped one hand to trace up Squall's thigh for emphasis, running over the belts strapped there.

"I guess I can be rough, too," Squall answered, inspecting the bleeding mark he'd left on his friend's neck. Pulling his hand away from Zell's ass he outlined the wound with one finger before casting a cure spell. "You really do bring out the worst in me," he said, only half-joking.

"Good," was Zell's reply, and then he, too, cast a cure to repair the damage he'd caused, incidentally taking care of the neglected sunburn.

A sudden knock on the door made them both jump. "I'm going to start dinner, dears. Are you going to stay?"

Squall shrugged and nodded at Zell's inquiring look. "Sure, Ma," Zell answered for them. "We'll be there."

"It'll be about an hour, then. You boys have fun." They heard her walk down the stairs.

They stared at each other in silence for a while, Zell fighting a grin. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he asked, "Should we follow Ma's directions, d'you think?"

"Sure," Squall said, voice soft and inviting. "But only if you do one thing for me."

"Oh? What's that?"

"Put a shirt on, you barbarian."

The quick movement took Squall utterly by surprise; he very rapidly found himself in a headlock. "When I feel like it," Zell said, grinning broadly.

"You think so, shorty?" Squall twisted and laid Zell flat on his back on the floor. "We'll see about that."

"Bring it on, jackass!"

Laughing, Squall attacked.


	10. Making a Choice

Squall folded his arms over his chest, hitched a hip against the rough brick wall, and waited. After dinner Zell had told Squall to wait for him at the club, that he'd meet up with him after running an errand. Squall had agreed, but damned if he was going to wait alone inside; the hungry looks from passersby were bad enough without inviting more.

So it was with great relief that Squall saw Irvine, Selphie, and Quistis approaching him. He looked them over as they walked toward him. He'd already seen both women's outfits, but they were worth a second glance. Smiling appreciatively, Squall directed his attention to the tall man between them.

Irvine was clad in slacks and a sports coat the same color as his hair: white with the vaguest hint of yellow swirled into the weave to warm it. Beneath the jacket he wore a banded collar silk shirt of the purest scarlet. His hair was unbound and brushed out, flowing around his shoulders like a cape.

"I think he likes," Selphie commented sardonically. They'd reached Squall's side while he was engrossed.

"I think they both like," Quistis commented. Irvine was wearing the same dumbfounded expression as he stared at Squall.

Running her eyes appraisingly over Squall, Selphie said, "Good job dressing him."

Tilting her head to Irvine, Quistis replied, "Same to you."

"So where's Zell?" Selphie asked. "This was his idea."

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Squall told them, "He'll be here. He said he had something to do, first."

"I hope he hurries up and does it, then," Selphie declared, petulantly. "I want to go in."

"Then what are you waiting for?" Zell's voice came from a shadow.

"You, of course," Quistis answered, smiling, as Zell walked towards them.

"Yeah, I had to get something," he explained.

"What?" Selphie wanted to know.

"Me." A figure in black detached itself from the dark space between two buildings. As it approached it became apparent that the dark shirt under the long, flowing black coat was actually of a green far deeper than the sliced jade of its wearer's eyes.

"Seifer?" Quistis exclaimed as Selphie gasped and Irvine stiffened in alarm.

"In the flesh," Garden's black sheep drawled, a broad smirk plastered on his face.

The three watched in horror as Squall stepped forward, staring at him. Zell grinned.

"Seifer," Squall stated. He extended a hand and, to three wide-eyed stares and one quiet chuckle, Seifer took it. Squall drew the tall man into a one-armed embrace. "Looking good," he remarked.

"Thanks," Seifer said graciously, returning the hug. "Zell threatened to kick my ass if I didn't come out here tonight. He looked so cute trying to be tough, how could I resist?"

Smiling, Squall turned to the gaping onlookers, ignoring Zell's protest. "You all know Seifer," he said by way of introduction, "but I don't think he exactly knows all of you. The pretty one in purple is Selphie Tilmitt, and the pretty one in white is Irvine Kinneas." He was equally good at ignoring Selphie's pleased giggle and Irvine's fond rebuke.

Disregarding the responses, Seifer merely observed, "The gang's all here, then," before turning to Quistis. "My lovely instructor, would you give me the honor of the first dance?"

Speechless, Quistis stared at him. At last, she walked over and wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, Seifer," she whispered, eyes brimming, "it's good to have you back.

The habitual smirk that served Seifer as emotional armor faltered and fell away as he slowly reciprocated the embrace. It was replaced by something softer, more vulnerable, and completely genuine. It took a few tries before he managed a feeble, "Thank you."

Having decided that everything was going to be okay, Selphie bounced on the balls of her feet. "Come on!" she urged. "I wanna dance!"

"Okay, okay," Irvine said, then offered his arm. "Let's go." After a final curious glance, Irvine led Selphie into the crowd.

Zell clapped a hand on each of Seifer and Quistis' backs. "Let's get in there before it fills up too much."

Nodding her acknowledgement, Quistis took Seifer's hand and pulled him along. They quickly disappeared from view as the mass of people engulfed them.

"Our turn," Zell commented, turning to Squall. He looked closely at his friend, then, "You really hate crowds, don't you?"

Arms crossed protectively in front of him, Squall nodded tersely.

"How did you manage that mission in Deling City?" Zell wondered. "It was at least this crowded."

"That was different."

"How so?"

"It was a mission. My job was to stand in the crowd and wait. Besides, I had my gunblade."

"Well," Zell tried unsuccessfully to hide a grin, "that could be a problem. Going in there with a weapon would be a bad idea." A thought struck him. "Can't you just pretend it's a mission to go in there and have fun?"

"No." The response was automatic.

"Why not?" At the lack of response, Zell asked, "Squall, seriously, have I ever hurt you?"

Rubbing his neck where Zell had bitten, Squall smiled slyly. "Yes."

Zell stuck his tongue out. "I didn't hear you complaining."

"Nor you," Squall riposted.

Zell broke into peals of laughter. When it had quieted somewhat, he assumed a stern manner and ordered, "Commander Leonhart, your mission is to infiltrate a popular dance club and insinuate yourself amongst the clientele. To avert suspicion, you are required to go in without a weapon. Use your training to blend in; take any steps necessary to that end."

Squall laughed; Zell's good humor was contagious. "The reason, sir?" he asked, saluting.

"Like they ever tell us why," was the exasperated response.

"Point taken."

"So are we going in or not?" Zell demanded.

"You'll stay by me?" Squall inquired, a note of pleading creeping in at the edge of his voice.

Smiling affectionately, Zell said, "You won't be alone, I promise."

"Zell?"

"Huh?"

"Why'd you do it?"

He'd been waiting for that one. "For you. You sounded so upset over him; I had to bring him along." Zell sighed. "I may not like him, but Seifer is one of ours. Besides, when I took him out shopping for that outfit I saw one of the scars you mentioned. I swear it looked like somebody had hammered a spike in his side."

Shuddering, knowing about this one—Seifer having confessed after a worried interrogation—Squall muttered, "Close enough." Ultimecia, using Edea, had driven one of her unnaturally elongated, taloned fingers into him, so that she could drink the blood that he coughed up as it filled his punctured lung. Squall's mind shied away from the knowledge of the circumstances under which this had occurred.

Curious, but eager to get inside, Zell simply inclined his head toward the open door of the club. "Well?"

"One more thing: how'd you get him to come?" Squall stared into Zell's sapphire blue eyes, silently demanding complete honesty.

Zell gave it. "I told him that you were worried and wanted him back among friends. Then I said I didn't give a shit if he came back, but if he upset you I'd track him down and feed him his guts in an ice cream cone." Zell smiled. "That made him laugh. The hardest part was getting him to let me buy him new clothes. Stubborn bastard. He's as bad as you." Grinning his toothy grin, Zell winked and asked, "So are we going in now, or what?"

"Okay… enough stalling." Squall took a deep breath and visibly braced himself. "Come on."

Together, they walked through the door of the club. They quickly spotted Selphie waving from a table near the far wall. She was rather hard to miss, as she was standing on the table, flashing lights reflecting from her metallic hair and beaded top in scintillating rainbows. They made their way around the fringes of the dance floor.

"S'up, Selphie?" Zell greeted her. "Besides you, that is." He flashed a grin in her direction.

"Catch!" she called, just before flinging herself off of the table.

Reflexively, Squall caught her before she could hurt herself.

"I was just holding the table for us," she replied to Zell's question, flinging her arms around Squall's neck and delivering a quick thank you kiss before dropping to the floor. "Irvine's off getting us some drinks, and there," she pointed, "are Quisty and Seifer."

Slightly dazed, Squall looked where she had indicated. Seifer and Quistis were dancing to the quick beat of a popular song. Seeing them, how startlingly beautiful they looked together, brought a tight, empty feeling to his chest.

The two moved in perfect time with each other—Quistis' dress floating around her in dizzying swirls of blue, Seifer's black opera coat flaring dramatically behind him—as they spun together, weaving in and out of the other dancers, none half so graceful as they.

"Whoa!" Zell exclaimed, turning to see them. "They look awesome!" Selphie nodded her fervent agreement.

"Wanna dance, Zell?" she asked.

Giving Squall a sidelong glance, Zell saw the flash of panic. "Not right now," he hedged.

"Why not?"

"A little help, please?" Irvine interjected. He'd walked up behind them all. As they turned it became obvious why he'd asked. He was fighting to hold six glasses in two hands, and losing quickly.

Squall, being closest, was the first to his aid, putting his hands out to provide a platform for the glasses to rest on. Once stabilized, Selphie and Zell began plucking drinks from their hands and setting them on the table.

When everything was settled, Irvine flopped into a chair and sucked down half of something pink in one gulp.

"Zell?" Selphie resumed, "why won't you dance with me now?"

"Ah…" he looked helplessly at Squall for an answer. Squall shrugged, inclined his head towards the seated Irvine, and then nodded once at Zell. "No reason," Zell answered her brightly, relieved by the permission. He held out his hand. "Let's go." Selphie eagerly accepted and together they waded out to a free spot on the floor.

Squall silently sat next to Irvine.

"Here." The tall blond pushed a glass at him. "I got this for you."

"What is it?"

"Just soda with a little grenadine. I didn't figure you for the drinking type," Irvine replied with a casual shrug.

"What do you have?"

"Same thing, but with vodka."

Nodding thoughtfully, Squall sipped his drink and looked around. He caught a glimpse of Zell and Selphie ostensibly dancing. It looked more like training, however. They kicked and spun, throwing punches and other strikes that never landed, but always looked like they would. A wide space had formed around them.

"Lookin' good," Irvine commented.

"Yes," Squall answered. "They are."

A punch to the arm brought Squall's focus back to the table. "I meant you," Irvine said.

Seeing the broad, exasperated grin made Squall smile in return. "You, too."

They studied each other for a silent moment before Irvine inclined his head toward the dance floor. "Zell looks incredible in those pants. I don't think he's going home alone tonight. Just look at them drooling."

It was true. A circle had formed around the two, partially in self-defense, but mostly in slack-jawed amazement. Every last watcher looked hungry for one or the other of them.

"That's what I told him," Squall stated before tasting his drink. "Not bad." He took another swallow.

Irvine was studying him. "Plan on being the one he goes home with?" he asked casually.

Glass halfway to his lips, Squall froze. He was spared having to answer, however, by Seifer and Quistis' appearance.

They dropped, laughing, into chairs opposite the two. "Which one's mine?" Quistis asked, hand hovering near the drinks.

Irvine pushed a glass into her waiting grasp. "One screwdriver for the lovely lady," he pushed another glass at Seifer, "and a vodka sour for the gentleman."

Seifer reached gratefully for his drink. Squall noticed that the two men's hands touched just a hair longer than necessary on the glass as it changed hands. Taking a drink to hide his smile, Squall looked back to the dance floor.

The music had switched to something slower, but Selphie and Zell still danced like demented angels: fierce and golden and so beautiful it hurt to look on them. Selphie danced like a flame, contorting unpredictably and throwing off light and heat with every motion. Zell, on the other hand, Zell danced like water. He was liquid and flowing, every gesture, every movement gently gliding into the next with deceptive speed and grace.

_He dances like his waterfall_, Squall thought in wonder. Fire and water, together on the floor; it was a work of art.

"Incredible, aren't they?" Irvine said in his ear. Squall jumped. He didn't know how long he'd been staring, awestruck, at the pair. "Just incredible," Irvine repeated, a little awestruck, himself.

Nodding, unable to speak for the sudden lump in his throat, Squall agreed. What was he to that kind of beauty? They were living fire, flowing water; he was still, cold, silent. Ice. Ice wouldn't stand a chance.

Would it?

Could he stand against them without being destroyed or carried away?

And did he care?

Would it really be so bad to feel himself melting into another?

And did he really need that mental image after two days full of aborted sexual arousal while wearing very tight, low-cut pants?

Turning his attention back to the table, Squall realized that there was no safe place for him to look. Irvine, Seifer, and Quistis were all staring at him, all beautiful to behold, and all wearing varying degrees of mocking grin.

"Like what you see?" Seifer drawled. "Maybe you'd like a closer look?"

Squall rested his drink back on the table and folded his arms, glaring silently, and desperately trying to think of anything but how those sneering lips had tasted.

"Squall knows he only has to ask if he wants more," Quistis said. She turned to Squall, and there was perhaps an invitation on her face—or perhaps it was just a teasing look. Who could tell?

Putting on a cool front he regarded her, considering her words at face value. Was it that simple? Did he only have to ask? Maybe.

But if so, who?

And how could anybody think straight with all this noise, boxed in and trapped by hordes of people?

"Squall?" Irvine shook him gently. "You okay, man? You zoned out."

"… Fine." Quistis answered, simultaneously with Squall. He groped for his glass and tossed it back without tasting it, trying to sooth the harsh catch in his tight throat.

"Uh…" Irvine tried, then shook his head. Squall had taken the rest of his drink by mistake, but he seemed tense enough to need it. Shrugging it off, Irvine rose to get himself another. "Anybody else for another round?" he asked.

Quistis declined, but Seifer stood up. "I'll go with you," he volunteered.

"Thanks. I had some trouble last time." Irvine's wry smile was tinged with humor, and a little something more. The two tall blonds struck out for the bar.

Quistis watched them go, smiling faintly, before turning back to Squall. "What you did for Seifer, that was very good of you," she said. Then, frowning, she added, "Are you having second thoughts about him?"

Squall shook his head.

"Then what's wrong? Is it the crowd?"

He nodded abruptly.

Quistis shifted to his side of the table. Laying a comforting hand on his shoulder, she leaned in and whispered, "You can leave if you need to. We all want you here, but not if it bothers you this much."

Squall seriously considered it. He _could_ leave, just find a quiet hole somewhere to hide in, away from the crush of bodies, the noise that pounded at him until his bones felt ready to shatter from the vibration, the overwhelming sensation of so many lives packed in like sardines in a can, completely unaware of the degradation they were suffering. He thought very hard about leaving this rabble and finding a blank wall to stare at until his mind could calm down.

Then… then he thought about Quistis and how excited she had been over seeing him in the clothes she had chosen. He thought about Selphie sparkling like a jewel in the lights. He thought about Irvine, looking so natural, so suave, simply in his element and all the more stunning because of it. He thought about Seifer, who had suffered horribly and still managed to have a good time. Finally, he thought about Zell, who had wanted him to be here, who had been so happy when he'd agreed, and who cared enough to seek out and bring someone he despised—only to please Squall.

"No," he said at last. "I'll stay."

"Are you sure?" Quistis pressed. "You don't look so good."

"It'll pass." He shrugged. A thought struck him then. "Do you think—"

"Hey, guys!" Zell exclaimed, slapping Squall on the back at his approach. He slid the seat on the other side of Squall from Quistis as Selphie dropped into the opposite place.

"Hey! Tequila!" Selphie cheered, passing Zell his glass, complete with lime wedge. She licked her hand and sprinkled it with salt from the shaker on the table. "Ready?" she challenged.

"You better believe it," Zell shot back, salting his own hand.

Quistis and Squall stared at them as they both licked the salt from their hands and downed the tequila.

Zell's lips twisted in distaste and he sucked on the lime wedge as soon as he could. Selphie, on the other hand, just smiled mischievously.

"Aww… poor little baby can't take his tequila like a man? Maybe he should get a girly wine cooler, instead?" she taunted the short blond.

"Like hell!" Leaping to his feet, Zell stormed to the bar.

Selphie grinned triumphantly. Trying to suppress a smile, Quistis shook her head disapprovingly. Squall, however, frowned at her.

"Why do you have to tease him?" he rebuked. "He hates it."

"Relax, Squall," Selphie said, holding up her hands. "Zell knows I don't mean anything by it. Besides," she added, "you tease him worse than I ever could."

He wanted to ask what she meant but he noticed her eyes; she was looking at his shoulder, where, to his slight surprise, Quistis' hand still rested.

She seemed to notice it at the same time. Withdrawing the intruding extremity, she colored slightly and said, "Excuse me." She rose and walked in the direction of the restrooms just as Zell returned with a bottle in one hand and four stacked glasses in the other, the topmost holding a collection of lime wedges.

"Where's she going?" he asked by way of greeting.

"Where do you think?" Selphie scoffed. "Now bring on the tequila!"

"Some for everybody," Zell said cheerfully, placing his burdens on the table. He poured three shots, pushed one to Selphie, another to Squall, and pulled the third to himself.

"Nuh-uh," Squall declined, pushing the glass away.

"Oh, c'mon, Squall," Selphie whined. "Loosen up!"

"No."

"Y'know," Zell said, leaning close to his stubborn friend, "it might do you some good. You don't have to get drunk, but a drink or two will take the edge off, make the crowd and everything a little more bearable."

"… You think I should?"

"Definitely, baby."

"Well… okay." Squall picked up the glass and regarded it a moment before setting it to his lips.

"Whoa!" Zell interjected. "Not like that! Maybe Selphie of the iron stomach could manage it, but you shouldn't even try. No," he said, shaking his head, "watch me, then do what I do."

Obediently, Squall watched as, once again, Zell and Selphie salted, licked, shot, and, in Zell's case, sucked the lime.

"How do you do that?" Zell asked in awe.

"I like the taste," she stated, shrugging delicately.

"Freak," Zell admired, then, turned to Squall. "Okay, your turn." He held out the saltshaker.

Dubiously eyeing the proffered item, Squall accepted it, not without trepidation. As he'd seen the others do, he licked his hand and sprinkled it with salt. He picked up the highball glass with its oversized shot of tequila.

"Remember," Zell cautioned, "breathe in, lick, swallow, breathe out, suck."

"What's all this for, anyway?"

"It mellows the taste."

"Oh." Taking a deep breath, Squall did as instructed.

When Quistis returned a few minutes later, Zell was still patting Squall's back.

"Are you going to be sick?" Zell was asking.

"What happened?" Quistis demanded, sitting next to Squall and running a protective hand through his mother-of-pearl hair. She angrily noted the tears running down his face.

"Squall just met tequila," Selphie announced solemnly. "They didn't get along."

"It's… vile," Squall choked out, wiping his eyes with the back of his (unsalted) hand. "You actually _like_ this?" he demanded incredulously.

Selphie shrugged innocently. "What can I say? It's an acquired taste."

"You feeling okay, now?" Zell asked solicitously.

"Yeah," Squall answered, then sucked again on his lime wedge. "This'd better work, or I'm going to kick your ass."

"Like you did earlier?" Zell said teasingly.

"No." Squall shook fire opal locks away from his face. "Next time I won't give you the advantage of hand to hand."

Zell merely smirked.

"What do you mean, 'This'd better work'?" Quistis wanted to know.

"Zell said it would help me relax in this crowd. If it doesn't, then I'm leaving, because I can't go through that again."

"… Why tequila?" Quistis looked accusingly at Zell. "Why not… something easier?"

"Tequila's fast. Besides, it was here."

She had to concede, at least to the first point.

"Less talking, more drinking!" Selphie said, pouring two shots. "Quisty?" she offered.

"No." Quistis waved a hand dismissively. "I never touch the stuff. It makes me sick. Besides, I still have a drink." She paused, considering. "Where have Irvine and Seifer gotten to?" she mused. "They can't still be at the bar."

"Ugh. Man, this stuff is harsh." Zell wiped his mouth and set down his lime wedge. "Nah, they're over there." He waved a hand vaguely. The others turned to look where he'd indicated.

Selphie was the first to spot them. "Oh… oh my." She burst into a fit of giggles.

Quistis merely turned up a corner of her mouth and took a swallow of her drink.

Squall stared in amazement.

On the dance floor, looking like photo negatives—one all in black, the other in white—Seifer and Irvine were undulating slowing to the sultry beat of the music. Each had one leg between the others', hands loosely grasping their partner's hips. Their eyes were closed, heads swaying with their movements, each of them wearing a smile born of sheer enjoyment.

They looked like they were having a great time.

Slumping back into his chair, Squall thought about everything. His friends, recent events, how he felt about them… where to start?

_Start with what you know._ Alright: Rinoa. He knew that all he felt for Rinoa was friendship and a strong obligation, both gratitude for saving him from himself and his promise to defend her. He knew he should be careful, that promise might come back to haunt him later.

Granting that his emotions for Rinoa were firmly in the realm of friendship, how did that compare to the others, with whom he was nowhere near certain?

Fiery Selphie, currently downing her fifth shot of tequila and apparently none the worse for it, what of her? She was lovely, energetic, enthusiastic… and quite honestly, a pain in the ass. Ice was his element, he knew that, like it or not. It always would be. Fire and ice just don't mix.

_Okay, Selphie's just a friend._ One down, four to go. Elements seemed to be working well for analogies, so he tried to match everyone to what they embodied.

Zell had already been established as water; he was seemingly transparent, yet possessed of surprising depths. He could run quickly, a veritable torrent, or be a still pool, easily rippled but always resettling.

Quistis was the earth. Solid, reliable, not easily roused, but beware of tipping off an earthquake or landslide. You'd be buried and she would keep it all inside. Also, like the earth, she could be mined for valuables; golden nuggets of wisdom and bright gems of personality all lay waiting under her shell, revealed sometimes with patience and effort, and other times by pure chance, but always delighting the lucky recipient.

Irvine was air. He was a warm breeze on a cool morning, or sometimes a tornado, when the situation called for it. He could just float there, hardly noticeable, on the periphery of life until he stormed; he'd be back to just existing soon enough, wondering what all the trouble was about. He was volatile by nature and needed to be regarded with caution and respect.

Oh, but then there was Seifer. Seifer was harder to classify. Too grounded for air, too flexible for earth, too rigid for water, too centered for fire, too deliberate for lightning… strong, righteous, often merciless and yet capable of surprising tenderness: Seifer was holy.

_Brings new meaning to the phrase "holy shit,"_ Squall thought, chuckling silently to himself.

"Squall?"

He looked up to find Quistis, Zell, and Selphie staring at him in concern.

"You okay, baby?" Zell went on. "Tequila making you sick?"

After a pause for a mental self-check, Squall shook his head. "I'm fine. Just thinking."

"Stop it, then," Quistis told him. "It looks painful."

His laugh surprised all of them.

"You sure you're feelin' alright?" Zell asked in concern.

"Yeah. You were right about the tequila. You generally are." Squall missed Zell's gratified grin by standing. "I'll be back in a bit."

Leaving behind the dumbstruck trio, Squall waded fearlessly into the throng. In order to figure out his own feelings, he needed to determine the others'; Irvine and Seifer—nicely ambiguous as they were—seemed like a good place to start.

He caught the couple just as the song ended. Tapping Irvine on the shoulder, as he was the closest, he asked, "Can we talk for a minute?"

"Sure," the lanky blond replied. He turned to his dance partner. "I'm gonna talk to Squall real quick. Order me a drink, would you?"

"I'll think about it." Seifer shot a smoldering glare at Squall then turned towards the bar.

Irvine gazed after the departing figure and licked his lips; Squall poked his arm to get his attention.

"Oh. Right," Irvine said, flustered. "What can I do you for, beautiful?"

"I need to ask you something." Squall looked around, then plucked at Irvine's sleeve. "Over here."

Once they were in a relatively private place Squall blurted out, "Earlier, you said that you only flirt when you're not serious. Are you serious?"

The glaze left his eyes and Irvine sighed. "I don't know," he said seriously, focused directly on Squall. "I mean, I haven't flirted all that much, but there's so much history between us… I just don't know."

Stung, Squall muttered, "And you said _I_ needed to make a choice."

"I know, I know. It's just… everything seems so different tonight." Leaning back against the wall and closing amethyst eyes, Irvine sighed again. "We have to live fast… there's no telling when we'll go up against something meaner and nastier than us, you know? We have to live every moment like it's our last. But we still have to be willing to live with the consequences. What am I willing to live with? That's the question.

Can I really face being with a man so focused on destruction? Sure, there are some nice things, too, including an ass that won't quit, but he's so… I don't know."

The hurt Squall had been hiding was quickly replaced by confusion. "What?"

Violet eyes snapped open. "You can't tell me you don't think Seifer's gorgeous?" Irvine was incredulous.

"When did we start talking about Seifer?"

"Uh… when you asked me if I was serious about him," Irvine said slowly. "How much have you had to drink?"

"What are you talking about? I asked if you were serious about _me_."

A startled laugh leapt from Irvine before he could suppress it. "Sweetheart, you're lovely, you're a great guy, you're a fabulous kisser, and there's no one I would rather trust at my back… but you're just not my type." Pushing himself upright, he lay a soft kiss on Squall's forehead then bent to whisper in his ear, "Besides, I think we both know your heart lies somewhere else." He cast a meaningful glance at the table where Selphie, Zell, and Quistis still sat, laughing and drinking.

"So," Irvine asked, suddenly earnest, "what do you think I should do about Seifer?"

Thinking fast, trying desperately to process this new turn of events, Squall said, "I'll talk to him and find out."

"You… you will?" The marksman sounded pathetically grateful.

"I need to talk to him, anyway."

"Thanks, man!" Irvine caught his smaller friend up in a crushing bear hug. "Just give me a nod if it's okay."

"And if it's not okay?" he asked Irvine's shirt.

"Then don't nod."

"No." Squall shook his head and tried to extricate himself from Irvine's grasp. "I mean he still needs friends. If it's not okay are you just going to abandon him?"

"Nah. I just won't ask him to bed." He finally released the spluttering Squall.

"That's a little sudden, isn't it?"

"Weren't you listening to me earlier? All that stuff about living fast? Ring any bells?"

"Point taken. Well… _if_ it's alright then you can ask, but don't push him. He's been through a lot and none of it pleasant."

Irvine saluted. "Yes, sir!"

Shaking his head, Squall went after Seifer. _Two down._

"Warning him off of me?" Seifer inquired dryly as Squall approached. He was sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, another, full glass beside him.

"Not everything is about you, Almasy," Squall retorted, sliding onto the barstool to Seifer's right.

The big blond turned his head lazily. "Are you tryin' to tell me that I never came up in that conversation?" Squall's silence spoke for him. "So what'd you tell him, 'stay away from the big, bad Seifer'?"

More silence. Finally, "How are you, really?" Impassively meeting Seifer's green glare Squall went on. "In regards to everything that's happened, are you alright?"

"Helluva thing to ask a sober man," the ex-knight in tarnished armor muttered, and then took a drink. "Why does it matter? Why are you asking?"

Squall sighed. "Look, you told me a lot today. I _know_ what you went through, and it was more than enough to screw up stronger people than you—not that there are many—" Seifer looked gratified at that, "—and I know that you said something about not reacting well to women now."

"I think I said I didn't think I could sleep with another woman," Seifer interjected sourly, his pleasure at the sidelong compliment waning. "Or something to that effect. Get to the point."

"Fine. The point: are you willing to sleep with a man? Tonight?"

Eyes wide, mouth gaping, Seifer stared at Squall for a long moment. Eventually he blinked; his mouth pulled up into a strange smile. "I guess that depends on which one of us is on top. If it's you, I'll have to say no."

Squall felt his cheeks flush with heat. "Not me!" he exclaimed, ignoring the odd look from the bartender. Seifer only laughed at him. "I'm not—I just—" he stammered. Sure, the occasional stray thought had tended in that direction, after all, who but Seifer—until very recently, that is—had ever aroused his passions?

Seifer was beautiful, his milky green eyes sparkling with glee at Squall's discomfiture. It was terribly easy to imagine that strong body curled against his… but now that he was called on it, he had to admit that while the idea of getting naked and horizontal with Seifer had some appeal, he certainly didn't want anything that would accompany it. A purely physical relationship was not something Squall desired, and there were only two people he could think of that he felt capable of anything more.

"No," he said, trying to shake his thoughts into place, "Irvine's interested, but I told him to wait until I could talk to you. I don't want your life any harder than it is."

"If you didn't want it hard, you shouldn't have asked me for sex," Seifer teased.

The smoke-blue glare only made Seifer laugh delightedly. "Should I tell him to leave you alone?" was the quiet question.

Seifer paused for a moment of serious thought. "No," he mused. Then, stronger, "No. I'm willing to try something new. Life is too short to waste on waiting."

"He said something very much like that," Squall said softly. "Maybe you're on to something with that."

Seeing Squall's pensive expression, so familiar under the soft shimmering hair, almost solid blue from the lighting, Seifer nudged him gently and asked, "Personal problems?"

"You could say that." Deciding to repay Seifer's trust and confidence, he confessed, "I think I'm in love or… or something close enough to it."

"Really?" Seifer grinned. "Who's the lucky lady? Or is it a lady?"

"That's the problem. I don't know." Squall buried his head miserably in his hands. "I feel the same way towards two people… one of each," came his muffled voice. "Zell and Quistis. Quistis or Zell. I don't know who I'd rather be with." He raised his head to look pleadingly at Seifer. "How can I tell? They're both close friends, both gorgeous, and both interested enough to give it a try. How can I choose?" He slumped again.

There was a hesitant moment before Seifer reached over to lay a comforting hand on Squall's back. "Who do you like to spend time with?" he ventured.

"It depends," Squall moaned into his hands. "Zell's good if I need to work off some energy, but Quistis is more comfortable to be quiet around."

"And I know you and your quiet time," Seifer muttered in good-natured irritation. "So, tell me about them," he continued.

Squall raised his head again, suddenly suspicious. "Why? You already know them both."

"Yeah." Seifer laughed loudly. "I know that one's a bossy busy-body and the other's a little chicken. I wouldn't figure you to go for either type. Tell me what _you_ know about them."

"Huh." Squall stared thoughtfully at his hands, absently worrying at a hangnail. "Um… who first?"

Seifer shrugged. "Who cares? The chicken."

A small smile tugged at Squall's lips. "He really hates that, you know. I think you can safely call him short now, though." Laughing softly at the memory of an insult-ridden wrestling match, Squall attempted to describe Zell. "He's… he's so full of life. He wears everything on the surface and his moods can shift so quickly, it's easy to think that he's an idiot, but there's a lot more to him than that. He followed me like a lost puppy for so long—I didn't really notice what I was throwing away with him. I still can't believe that I thought he was annoying."

"You mean the hopping around and swatting at the air didn't tip you off?"

Directing a sidelong look from beneath a raised eyebrow, Squall commented, "No more so than your oh-so-superior smirk. And you both do it for pretty much the same reasons." He waited until the smirk dropped away, to be replaced by a small, though genuine, amused smile. "In a lot of ways, Zell is like a kid. I don't really remember how it felt the first time I saw snow, or… or tasted ice cream, or any of those things that just hit you with the simple joys of life. But _he_ feels it all the time, and when you watch him get so excited over something so ordinary… you start to feel a little of that wonder, yourself."

An indulgent smile had crept over Squall's face as he spoke. Seifer noted it, but refrained from drawing any attention to it. Instead, he offered, "I was surprised to find him pounding on my door today. I thought for sure it'd be you—or the army. I don't know why you sent him to collect me, though. It's pretty out of character for you to think to invite me someplace like this."

"Ah… I didn't. I told Zell you were in town. I would have told Quistis, but…" Squall shook his head dismissively. Distractions were hell. "He did everything after that on his own," he continued. "It's no secret that he doesn't like you, but he still thought to bring you along. It's part of his charm, I guess." The smile became a grin. "He'd go through hell for a friend, and I really admire that in him." Squall looked into suddenly haunted green eyes and said, "In you, too."

Pleased, but unwilling to display it, Seifer said, "So what about Quistis? How does she compare?"

"Quistis is… complicated. Until yesterday, I didn't even see her as. . . well, as anything. She's been a fixture, she's always been there for me, she's always been so reliable, so composed… she's a rock."

"So what happened yesterday?"

"Uh," Squall colored a little, though it was hard to tell between his earlier full blush and the flashing, multicolored lights, "she, uh, she told me that she was tired of me being so ungrateful," he said, guiltily.

"Uh-huh," Seifer said, his voice flat with disbelief. "What aren't you telling me?"

He didn't want to say it, but he'd asked Seifer for help; Seifer deserved all the facts. "She bawled me out for being an insensitive bastard. She was wet and wearing my shirt and she didn't look like our old teacher, she looked like a woman. A wet, miserable, crying, incredibly sexy woman."

Seifer raised his own eyebrow and gestured for Squall to continue.

Squall sighed and did so. "I kissed her. It's what she'd wanted for a long time, which is why I hadn't wanted to give it to her. I hate being chased. Still, the way she looked right then… and today, in the dressing room… that was all my fault."

The other eyebrow lifted. "'Today in the dressing room'?" Seifer asked, not quite certain he wanted to know.

Squall ran a hand self-consciously down his body and sighed. "She picked out my clothes… I couldn't figure out how the hell to get these pants on. She came in and… well, you saw the dress," he said by way of explanation.

Green eyes went wide. "You didn't!"

Currently indigo eyes widened in realization of what he'd implied. "No! No, I—we—didn't. Only because I made her leave, though." Squall sighed once more, with feeling. "That didn't help when I saw Zell a little later, either."

Finely sculpted blond eyebrows were attempting to burrow into carefully groomed blond hair. "Did you…?"

"No. Not with him, either." Squall rubbed at his neck, remembering the feeling of Zell's teeth in his flesh, and vice versa.

Attempting to get back on the original subject, Seifer said, "So… you like Zell because he's fun, and you like Quistis because she's reliable."

"Yes, but Zell is very reliable, and Quistis is fun in her own way, too."

"You're impossible," Seifer observed with a sour look. "Okay then, who's the better kisser?"

"Yes." At Seifer's glare he elaborated, "Quistis is good. She's soft, eager, passionate… and willing to be submissive. Zell is strong, hard, enthusiastic and rough, and he seems to always want to be in control."

"Sounds like an easy choice, then. Go with Quistis."

"But…" Squall's words were almost too quiet to distinguish, "I like it a little rough, sometimes."

Closing his eyes, Seifer shook his head. "You really are impossible." He took a deep breath and let it all out in a rush. "Alright. You've got them balanced on personality and on physical levels. Asking if you'd rather be with a man or a woman obviously wouldn't work, otherwise you wouldn't be having this problem. Besides, there's nothing you can do in bed with one that you can't do with the other, as long as you're a little creative. So…" he fixed Squall with a piercing glare, "imagine this: you've just had the most mind-blowing sex of your life, and you're laying there in the afterglow with your head on your partner's chest. Do you want that chest to be hard and flat—and maybe hairy—or do you want it to have built-in pillows?"

Drawing in a breath to decry that as the most ridiculous question ever uttered Squall paused.

He released the breath.

He thought about it.

He raised first one hand, then another in the air and traced then over an imaginary body in front of him. The first hand moved in a straight line; the second cupped the air and made a weighing motion. The hands alternated movement for some time.

He smiled.

Seifer shook his head in disgust. "You're over thinking this. Have a little dignity." He stood, taking his drink and the partially diluted one he'd bought for Irvine. "Go embarrass Selphie, why doncha?" he said, waving a glass at the approaching woman. "I'm going to see about getting' laid tonight." He sauntered in the last known direction of Irvine.

"Hey, Squall!" Selphie called cheerfully on her way to the bar. "I'm here for another bottle—Zell's determined to drink me under the table, silly boy." She looked carefully at Squall's glazed expression. "Have you been drinking? Oh!"

The last was in response to Squall suddenly grabbing her waist and kissing her. "Selphie, my sweet, we're simply not meant to be."

"Are you drunk?" she demanded, pushing away from him.

"Not that I know of. I just made my decision, is all. I know who I want."

"Took you long enough," was all she said. She looked back at Zell and Quistis at the table, turned her head to Squall, and grinned. "Go on. You've waited long enough."

Obediently, Squall headed for their table. He sat down opposite them, Quistis to his right, Zell to his left. They looked up, saw his face, and then waited, expectantly, for him to speak.

"I've made my choice," he announced. He turned one way, "We'll always be friends," he said, then turned the other, "but I want more."

Pale lashes fluttered in surprise.

Blue eyes glowed with emotion.

A hand brushed back loose, yellow hair.

Full lips smiled happily.

"All you had to do was ask."


	11. A Lewd Awakening

"Hey there, sexy!" Irvine called as he reached the foot of the stairs. He sauntered up to the object of his salutation and slyly asked, "Have a good night?" The slightly sheepish grin he received in response made him laugh out loud.

"I should be asking you the same question," Squall responded as indignantly as he could with a smile stretching his face. No matter how he tried he couldn't seem to shake it. His cheeks were starting to ache, and that made his grin grow just a little larger.

Oddly enough, the question seemed to have the opposite effect on Irvine. "I—I did, but…" his words trailed off helplessly.

_That_ did it. Squall straightened up. "What happened?" he demanded.

"That's a little personal, don't you think?" In spite of his best efforts Irvine backed a half step away from his friend and superior officer.

"Dammit, Irvine," Squall hissed—no mean feat for a phrase entirely devoid of sibilants—and stepped menacingly closer. "I told you he's been through hell. If you did something to him, or he did something to you, I _damn_ well need to know about it."

"It's personal," Irvine stated stubbornly. "You want to know so bad, ask him yourself!"

"Ask him what?" Seifer came down the stairs of the hotel. His eyes were deeply shadowed, but he wore a tired half smile. "I thought you got enough last night without prying into the sordid details of my love life, Squall." He smirked. "Blondie not enough for you?" he asked in syrupy tones.

"'Blondie' is just fine," Squall said, unable to help the resurfacing grin. He tried to tone it down for his next words. "How are you doing, Seifer?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'm worried about you."

Ducking his head to hide his surprise, Seifer shrugged. "Fine. Pervert. The short version."

Irvine interrupted, "It's okay, really. You don't have to tell him."

"No. It's alright." He flashed a smile at Irvine slightly tinged with remorse before turning back to an impatient Squall. "It's pretty simple. Things were going fine until he got my pants off. I had a bit of a flashback. When I realized what was going on, I'd done some damage to lover-boy, here, and he'd gotten me a few times in self-defense. We patched each other up and talked all night."

Squall looked between the two of them, noting the careful stance of the injured and, oddly enough, a sort of concern in both their faces. He shook his head. "I don't want the long version, do I?"

"Probably not," Irvine said.

"No," Seifer stated.

"Not unless you want to share detailed information on your night, that is," Irvine added with a cheerful leer.

"Although we could hear you pretty well as it was," Seifer lecherously chimed in.

"Shut up," Squall mumbled, blushing hard and grinning harder.

"So how was it?" Irvine pressed, nudging Squall in the ribs with his elbow. "Everything you expected?"

Following a long, jeer-filled pause while Squall sought for a response, he finally dredged up, "A gentleman never tells."

"Right. That's why we asked _you_," Seifer retorted. Irvine only laughed harder.

Selphie, of all people, came to his rescue. "Leave him alone," she called dully from the staircase.

All three turned to look at her. She looked terrible. Her thick, golden hair was sleep-matted and stuck up on one side. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Her skin was slightly green.

"Irvy," she croaked as he went to her in concern, "if I ever drink that much again, kill me."

Smiling fondly, he shook his head. "You look like shit, sweets."

"Good. I'd hate to think I felt this bad without it showing. I see you're not looking much better."

"Sleepless night," he offered with a wink. "So where are our missing lovelies?"

"In the shower," Squall volunteered.

"Alone?" Seifer was smirking again.

"His reject is up there being violently sick," Selphie informed them. She swayed then, unfortunately away from Irvine, who tried to catch her.

Moving quickly, Seifer came to her rescue before she could fall.

"Thanks," she panted, and then groaned softly. "I think _I'm_ gonna be sick, now."

Together they manhandled the severely hung over Selphie back to Seifer's room then waited awkwardly outside the door, trying to ignore the retching within.

"Sooo…" Irvine drawled. "How was your first time?"

"Terrible," Squall answered, face utterly serious.

"But you— The grin! We could _hear_ you!" Irvine stammered while Seifer laughed.

"Oh, last night was great. You asked about my _first_ time." Squall leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest and a smug expression on his face.

"You mean you…?" Irvine began laughing while Seifer redoubled his efforts to breathe.

"Gossiping, Squall?"

Lazily rolling his head to the side, Squall looked at the speaker. Zell looked pale, still wearing his rumpled clothes from the previous night, his wet hair dripping onto his shoulders, reducing the thin fabric of his shirt to transparency.

"Zell," Squall greeted quietly. "You look terrible."

"And I love you, too," the short blond replied dryly. "Tell me, did I have sex last night?"

Facing the three stares that met the question, Zell couldn't help but blush. Still, he gave composure a valiant effort. "I drank too much. I don't remember anything from drinking tequila with Selphie to waking up naked the morning." Despite his efforts he sounded defensive.

"Why are you asking us?" Seifer wanted to know.

"Who else would I ask?" Zell frowned, then cringed when a door down the hall slammed shut.

"Sorry!" Quistis called to them. She approached the group with a happy smile on her lips, her wet hair down around her shoulders. "I forgot that you have to hold these doors so they don't slam on you." She looked around, taking in Zell's pained grimace, Irvine and Seifer's matched set of mischievous smiles, and Squall's broad grin.

Dismissing the others, she focused on Squall. Looking directly into his violet-flecked silver eyes, she said, "Have a good night?"

Squall flicked his eyes down her figure, then inclined his head in an affirmative.

She eased closer. "Good." Reaching out her hand, she cupped his cheek. "So did I." Her fingers flexed in his opal hair as she pulled him down the little bit that allowed their lips to meet. "We'll have to do it again, sometime," she whispered into his smile.

"Lay off the lovey-dovey stuff," Zell groaned. "I've got a serious question here."

"What question?" Quistis asked from her spot in Squall's arms.

"Why don't you ask Selphie?" Irvine inquired.

"Ask me what?" Selphie croaked from behind them. She still looked ill, but at least she'd managed to tame her hair.

"Nuthin'!" Zell exclaimed, but not fast enough.

"Sefie," Irvine drawled with a lazy smirk, "the martial artist formerly known as Spike would like to know if the two of you got naked and bumped uglies, although _you_ qualify as _any_thing but ugly."

Seifer's guffaws echoed down the hall on seeing the look of distaste written on Selphie's doll-pretty features, however pale and green they might currently be.

Quistis bit her lip to keep from laughing and squeezed hard on Squall's hands, which were loosely clasped at her waist.

Squall, for his part, was too busy nuzzling at Quistis neck to notice anything around him.

"No," Selphie slowly said to a claret-faced Zell, "we did not 'bump uglies.'"

"That was Irvine's term! I just asked if we'd had sex!"

Zell's defense was met with a flat glare. "You were too drunk to walk straight," she went on, "and you're hard to carry. Besides, even if I could have gotten you back to your mom's, would you really want her to see you like that?"

"No. It's just that I woke up naked in bed with you, Selphie. I don't remember anything—I just wanted to know what had happened."

"Then why didn't you ask me?"

"Yeah! Why didn't you ask _her_?"

"Shut _up_, Seifer! Selph, I asked them because if we had, it would have been really awful if I'd forgotten about it."

"Uh, guys?" Irvine broke in with a barely concealed leer. "I hate to interrupt, but check it out." He nodded in the appropriate direction.

"What?" Selphie turned with the others. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me!"

"I think I'll go gouge my eyes out with a spoon, now," Seifer said to no one in particular.

"Oh, for… Squall!" Zell tugged on his friend's shirt. "What the hell?"

Turning glazed, unfocused eyes to the shorter man, Squall managed a, "Huh?"

Zell snapped his fingers in front of Squall's face a few times. "Reality to Squall; Squall, come in. What are you doing? You're acting like a horny teenager!"

After several languid blinks, Squall licked already wet lips. His gaze swept over his friends: Irvine and Selphie giggling together, Seifer covering his eyes with one hand and shaking his head, and Zell staring reproachfully at him, before fogging over at the sensation of Quistis tonguing his earring.

"He _is_ seventeen," Quistis said indistinctly before dropping her mouth to taste his pulse.

"Get a room!" Seifer cried in response to Squall's moan.

"Good idea," Quistis breathed, and backed up a few steps, drawing Squall along with her. There was a brief glimpse of Squall pulling a foil packet from his shirt pocket before he kicked the door shut.

Seifer made a disgusted sound.

"What?" Zell asked.

"That's _my_ room."

Laughing, Irvine draped an arm over Seifer's slumped shoulders. "It's okay, sweetheart. The maids can clean up." He pulled the other man down and planted a chaste kiss on his scar. "Let's go. I'll buy you breakfast. You two gonna come?"

Selphie and Zell exchanged a look.

"Sure, why not?" she said.

"We'd better," Zell observed, "before they do."

The four of them left.

Awhile later, Squall idly snuggled into Quistis bare chest and sighed. He'd chosen earth over water, deciding that he'd rather be a snowcap than an iceberg.

Besides, he'd always been fond of pillows.


End file.
